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OR 

FIGHTING THE SPRUCE PIRATES 



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With a dull scream of rage and pain the two clawed 
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See pa^e SS9 




FIEST VOLUME OF THE CAMP AND TRAIL SERIES 


THE YOUNG' TIMBER- 
^UISERS 

OR 

FIGHTING THE SPRUCE 
PIRATES 

BY 

HUGH PlgitDEXTER 

Author of “ 'Tiberius Smith 


niuitrated hy 
CHARLES COPELAND 



BOSTON 

SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


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Copyright. 1911 

By small, MAYNARD AND COMPANY 
(Incorporated) 


Entered at Stationers* Hall 




©CI.A300059 


TO MY DEAR SOK 

HUGH 

WHO WAKTED ME TO WRITE 

A boy’s book this series is 

AFFECTIOKATELT DEDICATED 



CONTENTS 


PAGE 

I In Seabch of Work 1 

II Stanley’s First Job 18 

III Stanley Wants a Change 36 

IV Off for the Woods 67 

V An Unwelcome Visitor 75 

VI Left Alone 94 

VII A Narrow Escape 112 

VIII Off for Mt. Jim 130 

IX Big Nick Pays His Compliments 147 

X The Pursuit 166 

XI Stanley Meets the Enemy 182 

XII The Rescue 200 

XIII The Professor at Home 215 

XIV Into a Strange Country 235 

XV A Vain Search 256 

XVI A Discovery and a Capture 271 

XVII Mrs. Bruin Pays a Visit 291 

XVIII The Two Smokes 311 

XIX How Abner Fared 331 

XX The End of the Chase 351 

XXI President Thaxteb Arrives 372 

XXII Conclusion ... . .. 391 




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See Page 359 , . ... ... . . Frontispiece ^ 

He Dared Not Look Back . . .... 122 

Thus the Three Worked, Trampling and 

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as;:'-' ' 4'5Sf. ''S 



The Young Timber-Cruisers 


CHAPTER ONE 

IN SEAKCH OF WORK 

The youth in the road paused and listened 
intently. He was tall and thin, almost emaci- 
ated in appearance, and stood with shoulders 
stooped as if weary. But it was not fatigue 
that caused him to stay his steps and cock an 
ear curiously. What he had heard was the 
whine of a cross-cut saw, eating its way through 
a log. But all the wood sounds were new to 
him and as yet he could interpret none of them. 
Again the saw voiced a shrill complaint tinged 
with a note of anger at encountering a stubborn 
knot, and the youth left the rough road and 
awkwardly made his way through the alders. 

He beheld two men operating the saw, only 
to his unpractised eye it seemed as if the 
smaller of the two were trying to prevent the 
other from obtaining possession of the notched 
steel blade. 

Instantly his sympathy was aroused; he re- 
sented the unequal odds. 


2 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


‘‘Hi, you big fellow, quit that,’’ he called out, 
straightening his shoulders and briskly ap- 
proaching.. 

“Bon jour,’’ cheerfully saluted the man ad- 
dressed, turning to face the newcomer, but not 
releasing his hold on the saw. 

“You needn’t ‘good morning’ me,” returned 
the youth. ‘ ‘ But if the little fellow wants that 
saw you let him have it. You ought to be 
ashamed of yourself.” 

The man grinned blankly, not understanding 
the command. Then he faced his companion 
and gave the saw a violent yank. The little 
man frowned and squaring his jaw pulled the 
handle for the return stroke. Like his com- 
panion he understood no English. Unlike his 
companion he was of a sullen temperament. 
Both knew they were there to saw the log and 
must waste no time on strangers. As they 
tugged and strained the good-natured light 
faded from the big man’s eyes, and with com- 
pressed lips he sought to keep up with the pace 
set by his mate, who despite his slender phy- 
sique could tire out many a larger man. 

The youth, already out of temper because of 
the hardships of the day, buttoned his coat to 
the chin, while his blue eyes kindled into little 
fires. 


IN SEAECH OF WOEK 3 

Will you stop itr’ he growled, advancing 
yet nearer. 

The big Frenchman turned his head, but did 
not desist in his endeavor to take the saw as 
fast as his companion forced the stroke upon 
him. His face, also, in reflecting the physical 
strain under which he was laboring, impressed 
the youth as being distorted with malice. 

^‘For the last time,’’ cautioned the youth; 
“quit it.” 

Believing he was being praised by the stran- 
ger, he bared his teeth and with a hissing sound 
increased the pace. 

The youth hesitated no longer, but with an 
inarticulate cry sprang forward and caught the 
brawny shoulder and whirled the man about. 
The Frenchman instinctively clasped his as- 
sailant in a bear-like embrace, while the latter 
attempted to clutch the brown neck. 

“Here! here! Hi! break away!” screamed 
a shrill voice, and the poorly matched combat- 
ants paused in their struggle and remained in a 
rigid pose as a short, stocky built youth made 
towards them, clearing logs and stumps and 
rocks with marvelous agility. 

Then seizing the interlocked arms he pushed 
between them. He first addressed himself to 
the Frenchman, jabbering at him angrily. The 


4 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEKS 

Frencliman flung out his hands and with equal 
rapidity explained the situation insofar as he 
understood it. The little man, with clouded 
brow, remained at his end of the saw, seemingly 
not interested in the scene. 

“Say, what do you mean by jumping Big 
Louey in this wayU’ demanded the last comer 
of the pugnacious stranger. 

“He lays the blame on me, eh?” panted the 
youth. “I donT understand his lingo.” 

“ ’Course he blames you. It’s his place to be 
working here. It isn’t your place to be here at 
all. What do you mean by trespassing on the 
company’s land and picking up rows with inno- 
cent workmen?” 

“I don’t care what he told you,” answered 
the stranger, now more composed. “I am in 
the habit of telling the truth. I was passing 
along the road and heard a noise. I came here 
and found this big, hulking fellow trying to 
take this instrument from the little fellow. I 
told him to quit it, and let the little man alone. 
He paid no attention to my orders and I 
pitched into him. Now, what are you going to 
do about it? I can’t fight two of you; I’m not 
a fighter, anyway. But I’ll not stand by and 
see a small man abused by an overgrown 
bully.” 


IN SEARCH OF WORK 


5 


The stocky youth stared wide-eyed for nearly 
a minute; then with a sobbing cry of mirth 
he fell to the ground and rolled back and 
forth. 

‘^O dear I 0 dear!’’ he cried between wild 
peals of laughter. ‘‘Can it be real! 0 you’ve 
killed me ! Thought they was fighting over the 
saw! Ha! ha! ha!” 

“Seems to strike you as being funny,” 
growled the stranger. 

“Please don’t say any more just yet, or 
you’ll kill me, sure,” gasped the other. 
“I — never expected a treat like this. 
I — I don’t mean to offend you, but — ^ha! ha I 
ha!” 

“I hope you have your laugh out,” said the 
stranger. “It seems I have made some kind of 
a mistake and I’ll be going.” 

“Wait, wait. I’m better now,” said the 
merry one, staggering to his feet. “What did 
you think these men were doing? Fighting 
over the saw?” 

“Certainly,” stiffly replied the stranger, 
turning to go. 

“But hold on; don’t get huffy. Let me ex- 
plain to Big Louey.” And facing the now 
grinning giant he quickly explained to him the 
cause of the attack. Then he continued to the 


6 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 

stranger, ‘‘These men are sawing a log. The 
little fellow was crowding Louey pretty hard. 
They are great chums. I guess you don’t 
know much about lumbering.” 

The stranger flushed to his ears. ‘ ‘ Tell your 
Louey I am sorry to have misunderstood the 
situation, and give him this.” The “this” 
was a silver dollar. “And tell him I sincerely 
hope I did not hurt him. ’ ’ 

The stocky one gave way to a new burst of 
merriment, unable to speak for a moment. 
“He— he thanks you for the doller,” he finally 
managed to inform; “and he says you didn’t 
hurt him enough to make him take his bed. 
You hurt French Louey, Big Louey, Fighting 
Louey — the best natured giant that ever licked 
a whole drive of loggers into shape ! Why, for 
a doller ’n a quarter he ’d let you punch him for 
three days and he’d never raise a hand. If he’d 
just closed those arms of his he’d broke every 
rib in your body. Lucky for you he’s good- 
natured. ’ ’ 

“I thank you for your information. I’ll be 
going now.” 

“Say, you don’t talk like me. You’re city 
bred, I guess.” 

“I have lived much in the city, yes. Good- 
day.” 


IN SEARCH OF WORK 7 

‘‘But, hold your bosses for a second. Where 
are you bound forT’ 

“I don’t know.” 

“Where were you going when you started 
to reform Louey?” 

“I was looking for work and food.” 

“I see,” mused the other, now grave of face. 
“You look as if you were about played out.” 

“I am faint from walking and fasting.” 

“Well, why don’t you rest and eat?” 

“I have no money to buy food with.” 

“Huh! well, well. Gave your last doller to 
Louey, eh?” admired the other. “I’ll go back 
and get it.” 

“No you won’t,” growled the stranger, seiz- 
ing his arm and pulling him into the road. 
“Men in my family don’t give and take back.” 

“I see. What’s your name?” 

“Stanley Malcolm.” 

“Would you mind if I called you Splinter for 
short?” 

“I certainly should,” cried Stanley. 

“All right; I won’t, then. My name is 
Thomas, Bub Thomas, and the men at the mills 
will call you Reddy, or Rusty, as sure as you 
are born. Your hair is a reddish brown, you 
know. ’ ’ 

“My hair is my own and as for your men at 


8 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


the mills they’ll have no chance to make sport 
of me.” 

‘‘Dear! dear! how proper we be. Now, 
don’t git mad; it uses up your nerve force. 
Let’s git down to business. You want a job?’^ 

“Certainly,” moodily replied Stanley. 
“But I can see there is no chance for me up 
here. I’ll go back to Errol and try to earn my 
way to Boston. I was a fool to have left the 
city.” 

“Don’t git faint hearted. It’s because you 
want some grub. We’ll have that mighty soon. 
Thank the Lawd one can eat up here without 
paying, if it is simply a case of tough luck. As 
to work, you don’t know but what a job is wait- 
ing for you this minute.” 

“I tried for work down below here at a big 
mill, but was not successful,” said Stanley 
dispiritedly. 

“I see; called info the paper mill, eh? 
Queer you couldn’t fit in; they usually need a 
boy.” 

“A boy! I am sixteen, if you please,” cor- 
rected Stanley. 

Bub eyed him humorously. “So am I,” he 
informed, “but we rank as younkers up here. 
Say, if you git something to eat won’t it sort of 
soften that fiery temper of yours? Tempery, 


IN SEAECH OF WOEK 9 

peppery people don’t git on very well np here*. 
Shouldn’t think they would in the city.” 

‘‘I suppose not,” wearily conceded Stanley; 
^‘but this is all new to me and I’ve had a tough 
time this last week.” 

‘‘Well, well,” soothed Bub, studying his com- 
panion with new interest; “let’s cheer up. 
Your Uncle Thomas is going to take you in 
hand. But it’s mighty queer about the paper 
mill. Did you git huffy? Did you talk high- 
falutin with the boss?” 

“I talked with no one,” replied Stanley 
coldly. 

Bub’s eyes opened very wide, and he halted 
and faced the other in amazement. “Let’s git 
this straight. How did you know you couldn’t 
git a job if you didn’t ask for one?” 

“I looked in the doors and saw that all the 
men were loafing. I knew there would be no 
work for me when the help had nothing to do. 
Even the big wheels in the engine room were 
idle.” 

Bub’s facial expression first alarmed and 
then angered Stanley. For beginning with a 
strained, swollen look that puffed out the 
cheeks and made the dark eyes to fill with tears, 
it finally exploded in a shriek of laughter. ‘ ‘ 0 
my poor child! If you only knew how green 


10 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 

you are ! I shall never live to git to the mills. 
Men and wheels idle ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! ’ ’ 

‘‘Your way lays up the road; IT return to 
Errol,’’ gritted Stanley, wheeling about. 

“But don’t you see!” cried Bub, wiping his 
eyes and striving to sober his expression. 
“The— the men in a paper mill are always loaf- 
ing when things go right. When you see ’em 
hustling and bustling about you can bet the 
company is losing money, ’cause something has 
gone wrong. But when they loll back and take 
it easy everything is going all hunkey dory. 
And — and you thought — ha! ha! There! I’ll 
laff no more. And the wheels were still ! Ha ! 
ha! ha! Don’t, please don’t leave me. I’ll 
quit; honest I will, but if you only knew how 
funny it is. Wheels stopped. Ha! ha! ha!” 

“What is there funny about idle engine 
wheels?” demanded Stanley, now thoroughly 
irritated. 

“They— they was using water power and 
saving seventy-five dollars a day,” feebly ex- 
plained Bub. “If they could have water power 
the year ’round it would be a gold mine. Later, 
when the streams narrow up, they’ll have to 
use them wheels you saw idle and it’ll cost 
them seventy-five dollars for each day. Now, 
Stan, we’re friends again. You know I’m go- 


IN SEAKCH OF WOEK 11 

ing to like you awfully; for if you’re green up 
here you know I’d be green in the city.” 

‘^Yes, that’s probably so,” agreed Stanley, 
now mollified. ^‘Most people are a bit green 
on their first trip to town. I was brought up 
there.” 

‘‘And what did you do?” 

“Er — why, I haven’t done much of any- 
thing.” And Stanley’s voice and bearing were 
confused. Bub shrewdly observed. 

“Hm,” muttered Bub; “never met a feller 
before but what could do something.” 

“I’ve been to school and believe there are 
many things I could do if I had a chance to 
learn,” continued Stanley, earnestly. 

“I see,” dryly commented Bub. “Well, 
we’ll have a talk with Mr. Hatton. That is. 
I’ll tell him you want a job. He’ll say ‘yes’ 
or ‘no,’ and that will end it.” 

For about half a mile the two walked along 
in silence. Bub often stealing a compassionate 
glance at his foot-sore companion. The wind 
soughing through the pines came pleasantly 
to his ears, pricked through now and then with 
the tuneful call of a blue bird; but Stanley, 
with knit brows heeded nothing beyond the 
rough road before him. 

“Here’s the mills,” finally announced Bub. 


12 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


Stanley halted and raised his eyes. Before 
him was a collection of long buildings and small 
mountains of sawdust, while the soft spring 
breeze brought to his nostrils the aroma of the 
lumber. 

^‘Them two over there are the sawmills. 
Next is the pulp mill, the brick one, and across 
the way are the three boarding houses and the 
company's store and offices,’^ explained Bub, a 
proud note in his voice as he remembered he 
was a part of the busy industry. 

^‘WhaUs the name of the company?’’ idly 
asked Stanley. 

Great Scott! but you are a cool one,” 
admired Bub. ‘^Here you’ve come way up 
here to git a job, have given your last doller to 
Frenchy, and you don’t even know the name of 
the Great Northern Lumber and Paper com- 
pany. ’ ’ 

“I’ve heard the name several times,” puz- 
zled Stanley, frowning as he attempted to 
recall when and where. 

“You have!” jeered Bub. “That’s mighty 
nice of you. Why, don’t you know we are the 
biggest thing in the lumber and paper game 
and that we cut, all told, more’n four hundred 
million a year?” 

“Of what?” innocently inquired Stanley. 


IN SEAECH OF WORK 


13 


‘‘Stan, yon ’re a wonder!” gasped Bub, 
throwing up his hands in dismay. “Millions 
of feet of lumber, greeny. That first mill over 
there eats four hundred cords of spruce a day. 
That’s some eating, ain’t it? And if it ain’t 
fed to the top-notch you’ll hear something 
drop. Then we own the paper mill down where 
you tried to git work. Ha ! ha I ” 

“Who is ‘we’? Are you a part of the com- 
pany?” sneered Stanley, resenting the other’s 
reference. 

“Sure,” stoutly replied Bub. “The com- 
pany would have to close up shop if I 
wasn’t here to help old Abner Whitten on his 
trips. ’ ’ 

“And I suppose that that tramp coming 
along the road, the one who looks more unfor- 
tunate than I, also is one of the company,” 
ironically remarked Stanley, pointing to the 
slouching figure of a man. 

Bub’s eyes danced gleefully. “That is Wil- 
son, our buyer. The company pays him ten 
thousand dollars a year. He knows the lumber 
game and the timber lands of New England 
and Canada as no other man knows it. Stan- 
ley, remember this; clothes don’t cut much of 
a figure up here. The only thing that counts is 
results. If you deliver the lumber you git the 


14 THE YOUNa TIMBER-CRUISERS 

money and a dude isnT worth forty cents a 
week. ’ ’ 

Stanley did not reply ; he was humbled. For 
the first time he realized how utterly unlikely 
he was to fit in with this environment. Even 
French Louey was of more value than he. 
And as he pondered on this bitter truth his 
heart sank and a feeling of homesickness 
flooded his soul and the tears trembled in his 
eyes. 

But Bub saw his emotion and his generous 
spirit urged him to find some diversion, some- 
thing to distract his companion’s thoughts. 
Nearby, leaning against a pile of fresh spruce 
bolts, was a swarthy complexioned man, whose 
hair grew coarse, black and long. It was Big 
Nick, the half-breed, who had lost his license as 
a guide for poaching. He had been discovered 
trapping beaver out of season and for this 
summer at least he could not hire out to any 
party at three dollars a day. He had blamed 
the lumber company, believing Hatton had set 
the game wardens on his trail. He had come 
down to the settlement to interview the man- 
ager and ask him to have the license restored ; 
for Hatton was a power in that section and the 
half-breed believed he had ample power to re- 
verse the action of the officials. Hatton had 


IN SEAKCH OF WOEK 15 

refused to see him and he was in no frame of 
mind for jest. 

But Bub in his desire to arouse his com- 
panion did not hesitate to make use of Nick, 
and in a tantalizing treble sang out, 

‘‘Beaver, beaver, taking a nap. 

Big Nick caught him in a trap. 

Then came—” 

But before the crude taunt could be com- 
pleted the half-breed was galvanized into 
action, and with a guttural oath leaped towards 
the boy, with one bronzed fist drawn back for a 
smashing blow. 

Bub’s face blanched and he jumped aside, 
tripped and fell. Instantly the infuriated 
guide was over him, one foot raised to stamp 
down into the upturned, terrified face. 

Then the guide shot backward, and Stanley, 
who had stood as if petrified, beheld Wilson, 
the buyer, standing over the fallen boy. 

“Want any more!” he muttered. 

The guide crawled to his feet, one hand steal- 
ing to his belt. 

“Drop it! Touch that knife and I’ll shoot 
you,” warned Wilson in a low, metallic voice. 

Without a word Big Nick faced about and 
hurried away. Then Wilson caught Bub by 
the collar, not only to lift him to his feet, but 


16 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


also to thoroughly shake him. ‘‘You young 
pup!’^ he upbraided. “What do you mean by 
trying to cut up with that Injun? Don’t you 
know he’s poison and would kill you as quickly 
as he would a mink? If you keep on with your 
smart Alec tricks you’ll stop growing quick 
some of these days.” 

“I thank you very much, Mister Wilson,” 
humbly returned Bub. 

“You’d better, but that doesn’t fill the bill. 
That Injun is now doubly sore on the company. 
If ever he gits you in the woods he’ll even up 
what he believes he owes you. But that ain’t 
the worst.” And the buyer dropped his chin 
and ruminated gloomily. 

“Why, what worse can he do?” whispered 
Bub, his voice trembling as he fancied a meet- 
ing with Big Nick in the woods, where each 
man was a law unto himself. 

“He’ll make a campaign against the com- 
pany. He’ll start fires,” growled Wilson. 
“You young pup, it would almost be better if 
I’d let him smashed you. Now, get back where 
you belong.” 

As Bub led the way to the small olBfice he was 
much crestfallen. His step lagged and the 
light faded from his gaze. 

“I’m sticking by you. Bub. Where you go 


IN SEARCH OF WORK 17 

I’ll go, and perhaps the two of ns will be 
enough for the Indian,” murmured Stanley. 

‘‘You’re a good sort and we’re going to 
hitch up fine, ’ ’ ruefully replied Bub. ‘ ‘ And let 
this be a lesson to you, young man; it’s pos- 
sible for a feller to be green even after he 
thinks he knows the ways of the woods and 
mills. What a greeny I wasl” 


CHAPTER TWO 

STANLEY'S EIKST JOB 

Bub^s remarks as they drew near the office 
were half inaudible because of the increased 
clamor pouring out of the mill. A hasty glance 
sufficed for Bub to know the manager was in 
one of the mills, or at the sorting gaps. 

‘‘We’ll try in here,” he shouted in Stanley’s 
ear. “Sawing pine into lumber. I tell you, 
my son, we are the only people and you must 
git in with us.” 

Stanley smiled gloomily; at another time he 
knew Bub would be a continuous source of de- 
light to him, but now the future was veiled in 
doubts and misgivings. It was too late to re- 
treat, however, for with his last optimistic 
observation Bub had led the way into the place 
of noise. The songs of the saws were keyed 
from droning monotones to the shrill screech 
that seemed to split the ear. Added to this 
vibrating babel was the clang and roar of pul- 
leys and belts and the racket of the boards slid- 
ing from the tables. For the fraction of a 
moment Stanley forgot their errand and with 
18 


STANLEY'S FIEST JOB 


19 


mouth agape and eardrums singing, stared at 
the sawdust-covered men bending over and 
clustered around the discs of flashing steel. 
The Western sun in burnishing a huge circular 
saw into silver and gold was unable to reveal 
its motion. For all the world it was station- 
ary and smooth of rim. And yet, when the 
huge log was urged upon the table and fed 
against its edge it divided like a cheese under 
the knife and only the intense scream of the 
long, hooked teeth evidenced that it was alive. 

When Stanley turned to look for his new 
found friend he beheld Bub nearby, talking to 
a square built man, whose eyes were as cold 
and hard as the monster now severing the log. 
Although they were within a few feet of him 
Stanley could hear no word spoken. He saw 
the motion of Bub^s lips and then knew the 
manager had uttered some monosyllable. Bub 
turned and gaining his side said something. 

‘‘CanT hear you,^^ bellowed Stanley; nor 
could he hear his own words. Bub smiled and 
let him outdoors, but it was some seconds be- 
fore the ringing left his ears and Bub’s voice 
was very hollow and sounded far otf as he in- 
formed : 

^ ^ Good luck. You are to work in the kitchen 
helping the cook. You’ll have to git to work 


20 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 


at four o’clock in the morning and you’ll get 
three dollers a week and your board. Not bad, 
eh?” 

‘Hs that all?” asked Stanley, now thor- 
oughly discouraged. 

Bub misunderstood him and laughed merrily. 
“I don’t wonder you think it is a cinch. I 
started in there at only two dollers a week, but 
I didn’t have anyone to speak for me. I pulled 
your oar in great shape, my son. Besides 
helping the cook you’ll have to carry water to 
the men, build the fires and so on. If you have 
any spare time you’ll be sent to help with the 
bosses, of course.” 

didn’t know anyone ever worked for three 
dollars,” sighed Stanley. 

‘‘You didn’t expect Wilson’s place right oif 
the reel, did you?” drawled Bub. 

“No; but this kitchen work — what do I have 
to do?” 

“Come up to my room, or rather our room, 
for you’ll bunk with me, and I’ll tell you,” said 
Bub, leading the way. 

Bub’s room was in the middle boarding 
house and was not a large one. Still the owner 
seemed proud of it and pointing at the one chair 
and a small pine table, the latter covered with 
writing material and some old magazines, ex- 


STANLEY’S FIRST JOB 21 

ulted, ‘‘There’s style for you, my son. You’re 
lucky in meeting up with me. ’ ’ 

Stanley turned aside to conceal his dismay 
and in a choked voice asked, “And now as to 
my duties?” 

“Build fires, put on the coppers, clean the 
kettles, pots and pans, peel potatoes — ” 

“Hold hard! Peeling potatoes is girl’s 
work. I’ll have none of it.” 

Bub sank on the bed, head in his hands, and 
moodily remarked, “I don’t know as I can do 
anything for you after all. You’re too finicky. 
What had you in mind. Mister Malcolm?” 

“I certainly expected to get some clerical 
work, something more fitting,” irritably re- 
turned Stanley. 

“Very well. Mister Malcolm,” politely ob- 
served Bub. “Please draw the chair up to the 
table and write as I talk. No, I mean it. We 
must find out where you are heavily wooded 
and blaze a trail to that place.” 

Stanley grimly seated himself and dipped 
the pen. “ ‘Mister Bub Thomas, Esquire,’ ” 
began Bub, gravely. 

“What nonsense is this?” cried Stanley, 
throwing down the pen. 

“See here. Mister Malcolm, pick up that 
pen,” growled Bub. “Think I’m spending my 


22 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 

time up here for fun? ‘Mister Malcolm, Es- 
quire. My dear sir; although I ainT no par- 
ticular ability and never worked I would like 
a nice job at a fat salary — ’ ’’ 

“I’ll write no more,” cried Stanley. 

Bub reached over and picked up the paper 
and studied it thoughtfully; then he said, “I 
don’t blame you. They wouldn’t let you 
sharpen pencils in the office, and if you don’t 
cut more of a figure peeling potatoes than you 
do slinging ink you’ll say good-bye to the 
kitchen mighty quick. 1 can ’t git into the office, 
but I’m more shakes then you on writing. See 
here,” and seizing the pen he rapidly copied 
Stanley’s scrawling effort and presented for in- 
spection a fair, clean bit of copy. 

“Why, you write better than I do,” sorrow- 
fully admitted Stanley. 

Blandly ignoring the compliment Bub as- 
sumed a paternal air and inquired, “What 
about arithmetic? Can you scale lumber, can 
you reckon stumpage? Or can you find a dis- 
count, the number of acres in a piece of land 
shaped like a lobster. I, myself, have gone 
only through plane geometry and the high 
school algebra. Of course Mister Malcolm is 
much farther advanced. ’ ’ 

“No; I’m not,” soberly corrected Stanley, 


STANLEY’S FIRST JOB 


23 


eying Bub with chagrin and respect. give 
in; you’re ahead of me.” 

“Now we are improving and peeling pota- 
toes don’t look so black, eh I” cried Bub, kindly 
and encouraging again. 

“You’ll admit there isn’t much of a future 
in that kind of work,” said Stanley, smiling 
sadly. 

“But when a man is down and out and has 
no money, nor grub, there ’s a supper and other 
suppers in it,” reminded Bub. “Now, if 
you’re keen to git ahead and are really ambi- 
tious, think I can fix it so you can git some wash- 
ings to do outside of hours. The men pay 
twenty-five cents per wash. Ten of ’em a week 
would nearly double your income.” 

‘ ‘ Income ! ’ ’ sneered Stanley ; then repentant, 
“Bub, you’re a good fellow. I’ll tackle the 
potatoes, but we’U leave the washings for the 
time being.” 

At this juncture a bell rang down below and 
Bub made a leap for the door. “Supper!” he 
cried, gaining the stairs in another bound. 

“Won’t there be enough?” asked Stanley, 
keeping up with him only by something of an 
exertion. 

Bub’s boyish laughter rang out clear and 
full, even rising above the warning of the bell 


24 THE YOUNG TIMBEK-CEUISEES 


and he slackened his steps. ‘^Enough? Of 
course we have enough. Eat all you can hold, 
hut we fellers git so all fired hungry we usually 
sprint for the dining room. Hear ’em outside ! 
You’d think there was only a slice of bread and 
we’d got to fight for it. Follow me.” 

For the first time in his life Stanley beheld 
more than a hundred men eating in their shirt- 
sleeves, and eating as if life depended upon 
their finishing quickly. Only they didn’t fin- 
ish but helped themselves again and again. 
Mountains of baked beans, hills of doughnuts, 
seas of strong coffee, plateaus of gingerbread, 
foothills of fried potato vanished and were 
replaced, only to vanish again. And no one 
spoke, except to grunt a request for some par- 
ticular dish. The rattle of the knives and 
forks, the clatter of the dishes, was a reproduc- 
tion in miniature of the confusion in the mill. 

‘‘Pitch in,” encouraged Bub, manfully wrest- 
ing the doughnuts from the expectant hand of 
a Prince Edwards Islander. 

“I’m through,” whispered Stanley, suddenly 
finding his appetite had fled. 

“Jumping cats!” exclaimed Bub, pausing 
in amazement. “Off your feed as bad as 
that? I thought you was hungry.” 

“I was, but the noise, the sight of so much 


STANLEY'S FIEST JOB 


25 


food,” mumbled Stanley. ^^Why don’t they 
bring in wbat you order instead of putting 
everything on the table at once?” 

^‘0 my son, my son!” choked Bub, holding 
his sides. Then in a mincing voice, “Waiter, 
I will have a bit of a bean and a sprig of 
spruce—” 

“Shut up!” snarled Stanley. 

“Say, Red-head, shoot over them biscuit. Be 
ye deef?” called out a black whiskered man 
across the table. Stanley’s face reddened and 
he opened his mouth to resent the tone and lan- 
guage, but mastered himself and silently 
obeyed the rough request. 

Bub nudged him and whispered, “That’s bet- 
ter. I have some hopes for you. Remember, 
you are only a kitchen boy for the present. If 
you ain’t got nerve enough to be that and be it 
right you’ll never amount to shucks at anything 
else up here.” 

“Let’s get out of here,” was Stanley’s 
answer. 

Bub looked ruefully at his plate, recently re- 
filled, but stifling a sigh rose and ushered his 
new friend, not to the outer air, but to the 
kitchen. 

“You must meet the cook. He’s your boss. 
Try and be pleasant. You won’t disturb him 


26 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


any if you’re not, but he’ll have a new kitchen 
boy.” 

Stanley heard this final bit of advice with a 
grimace, and Bub approaching a perspiring 
man stirring something in a kettle said, ‘^This 
is your new boy. Cook.” 

‘^Git out of my way, or I’ll scald ye,” cried 
the cook, not raising his eyes from the kettle. 

‘‘He goes on to-morrow morning. I’ll tell 
him what to do,” continued Bub, in no way 
abashed. 

“Out of this kitchen or I’ll be the death of 
ye,” bawled the cook. 

“There! we’ve fixed that all right,” enthu- 
siastically cried Bub as they gained the open 
air. “ You ’d had a disagreeable time if I hadn ’t 
gone in to break the ice. When I began in 
there I didn’t have a soul to speak a good word 
for me.” 

“And you call that a cordial welcome?” 
asked Stanley, his voice trembling. 

Bub’s eyes widened in surprise. “Did you 
expect him to throw his arms around you and 
kiss you?” he at last inquired. 

Stanley was too depressed to resent the 
scorn in Bub’s tone and he could only say, 
“Threatened to scald me!” 

“But he didn’t hurt you, did he? Words 


STANLEY’S FIRST JOB 


27 


don’t break no bones or float logs. Wby, my 
son, when you git use to it you’ll go ’round 
feeling real lonely, when the cook stops jawing 
you.” Then sagely, ^^You see, Stan, there 
never was a cook but what gits filled up with 
hot air from the cooking, and if he don ’t let otf 
steam he ’ll bust, and then the whole settlement 
goes hungry. If you was over to Number One 
or Two you’d find either cook a heap worse ’n 
this one.” 

^ ‘ Are there more boarding houses ? ’ ’ faltered 
Stanley. 

Three of ’em.. This is the best, though. 
The saw gangs live here and the teamsters. 
Over to One and Two you git the loggers and 
the foreigners. The loggers are all right, but 
they’ve blown their winter wages and their 
drive wages and they feel out of sorts. One of 
’em threw a cup at me once and cut my head 
open.” 

^^I’m tired. May I go to bed?” humbly 
asked Stanley. 

‘^Sure. Of course you’re tired; I ought to 
have remembered. Go ahead up and take 
either the front or back side of the bed. Most 
of the men have bunks, but we officers have to 
throw on style. I’ll bring the alarm clock so 
you can git up in time. ’ ’ 


28 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 

don’t know why you should bother, Bub,’’ 
said Stanley, clasping the other’s hand impul- 
sively. ‘‘You know more’n I do.” 

“No, I don’t,” sorrowfully replied Bub. “I 
can’t talk the lingo you can.” Then with a 
blaze of optimism, “But, my son, if you’re not 
fired I’ll learn the trick from you. I talk 
rough, but watch my smoke. I’ll pick it up. 
So long.” 

Stanley found the room as one in a dream. 
Not only was he worn out by physical hard- 
ships, but by gloomy thoughts. It all seemed 
so hopeless. A dozen Frenchmen now could 
have been abused in his sight and he would not 
offer to interfere. It was all so rough and 
hard. There was no single redeeming feature. 
Hold on — there was Bub. Bub was a true 
friend. He owed his supper and bed to Bub. 
Then with a flush of shame he remembered that 
this same uncouth Bub, with no advantages, was 
ahead of him in book knowledge. Accompanied 
by these disagreeable thoughts he fell asleep. 

In a vague way Stanley knew four o’clock 
in the morning, was, at some seasons of the 
year, in the neighborhood of sunrise. He 
always had believed it to be an early hour, 
judging entirely from hearsay; but he never 
had appreciated just how early it was until Bub 


STANLEY’S FIKST JOB 29 

shook him violently and commanded, ‘^Git up! 
Turn out!” 

‘‘You just come to bed?” sleepily asked Stan- 
ley, preparing for another nap. 

“Just come to bed! It’s morning and time 
you was hoofing it downstairs. Want the cook 
to come up and git you? Better not have him, 
my son.” 

“But it’s dark,” remonstrated Stanley, his 
heart sinking at the loneliness of the hour. 

“It’ll be mighty hot if you ain’t downstairs 
in two jumps,” warned Bub. The note of 
earnestness in his voice had its effect on 
Stanley. 

With a shiver the youth crawled from the 
warm blankets and fumbled for his clothes. 
He had never known that nights and mornings 
in late May could be so desolate and cold. 
The rawness of the early morning air bit to the 
bone. And to heighten his sense of isolation 
Bub snored softly as he cuddled luxuriously. 
And with his heart in his boots Stanley stole 
awkwardly down the stairs and out into the 
kitchen. 

Here he found the cook’s assistant, an Irish- 
man named Gilvey. He was some four years 
older than Stanley, but ages ahead of him in 
importance. 


30 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEKS 


Think this is a lawn party?’’ greeted 
Gilvey, icily. ^‘Ye be late again, me lad, and 
ye’ll answer to me.” 

thought the cook was my boss,” defended 
Stanley. 

‘^The cook is my boss, ye red-head,” snarled 
Gilvey. ‘‘Think he has time to bother with 
bossing tramps? It’s bad enough for me to 
have to be saddled with the dirty work. Now 
hump yerself. Start them fires.” 

With many blunders and under a liberal 
cursing Stanley worked through the early morn- 
ing tasks. When breakfast was ready he found 
he could not sit down with Bub, but must work 
the harder in the kitchen. After the men had 
trooped away he was allowed to eat his meal 
in the corner. While he drank his coffee and 
tried to believe he had not been working for 
days Gilvey kept up a fire of coarse remarks. 
Lost in his somber meditations Stanley did not 
heed these at first. Then as he caught the in- 
sults and heard the cook chuckle an encourage- 
ment his blood boiled and he was about to rise 
from the table, when Gilvey ’s malice was given 
a new turn by the breezy entrance of Bub. 

“Hi, my son. How goes the battle?” he 
greeted, running up and slapping Stanley on 
the shoulder. 


STANLEY’S FIEST JOB 


31 


‘‘It’s horrible,” groaned Stanley, shaking 
his head. “Everyone is so cruel. The assist- 
ant has been abusing me fearfully. I won’t 
stand it.” 

“Nonsense, man,” brusquely returned Bub 
in a low voice. “He wants to bedevil you till 
he can git you mad. Keep smiling if you want 
to git even with him. As for me I ain’t under 
his command and I’ll touch him up a bit.” 

Saying this he walked down by Gilvey, who 
watched him suspiciously. As he reached the 
door he turned and cried out, “Say, Paddy, 
how much did you pay for stealing that last 
pig ? ’ ’ 

With a terrible oath Gilvey seized a butcher 
knife and hurled it at the grinning face. The 
door slammed to and the knife sank deep into 
the plank, quivering back and forth. But if 
Bub intended to lighten his friend’s spirits by 
this method he succeeded only in part. For 
once Gilvey had completed his arraignment of 
Bub he redoubled his persecutions of Stanley. 
He offered the youth no violence, but he sought 
in every way to provoke him into making an 
assault. When the water was brought in he 
declared it to be filled with dirt and with an 
oath told the weary lad to bring fresh. By 
this and other means he completely exhausted 


32 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


Stanley by the time tbe supper disbes and 
kettles were washed and set away. 

That night, aching in every bone and thor- 
oughly heart-sick, Stanley threw himself on 
the bed and for an hour or two would not be 
comforted. Finally he said, ^Ht’s no use. Bub. 
I canT stand it. I’d rather die of starvation 
than endure Gilvey’s insults and abuse 
longer.” 

‘‘And that would tickle Gilvey to death,” 
cried Bub. “Can’t you see he is trying to 
make you so mad you’ll forgit and go at him. 
'Then he’ll have an excuse for polishing you 
otf. He did that to the last feller.” 

“He is horrible. Sometimes to-day I felt like 
killing him.” 

“None of that,” sharply warned Bub. “I 
ain’t sharing my room with assassins. Gilvey 
is ignorant and a brute. If you say so I’ll join 
you and we’ll lick him. iWe could do it easy, 
only it wouldn’t help you much. For the men 
would say I had to help you hoe your row.” 

“It’s not to be thought of,” quickly replied 
Stanley, reddening. “I’ll fight my own bat- 
tles in the kitchen. I’ll keep on my guard and 
if he keeps his hands off me I’ll let him be and 
let him talk.” 

“He won’t touch you,” assured Bub. 


STANLEY’S FIEST JOB 


33 


On the next morning Stanley progressed 
more rapidly with his work, bnt there was no 
surcease in Gilvey’s abuse. It seemed to anger 
him that the youth made no mistakes this 
morning. 

‘‘Why haven’t ye peeled that other kettle full 
of pertatiesl” he finally demanded, a note of 
triumph in his voice. “Didn’t ye hear me tell 
ye a dozen times?” 

“Yes, I heard you,” quietly responded Stan- 
ley, his form trembling. 

“Why didn’t ye do it then?” roared Gilvey, 
approaching, his eyes flashing. 

“Because the cook told me you had made a 
mistake, and that I wasn’t to peel them,’^ 
politely replied Stanley, a cold little smile 
playing around his mouth as he faced 
Gilvey. 

Infuriated at the smile Gilvey screamed an 
oath and flung himself upon the youth. The 
cook paused in amazement to see the two strug- 
gling. Before he could interfere the combat- 
ants whirled clear of the tables and fell with a 
heavy thud. When Stanley rose panting to his 
feet Gilvey remained motionless. From a cut 
in his head, received from the edge of a kettle, 
a thin stream of blood trickled across the floor 
Stanley had just washed. 


34 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


‘‘You git out of here!’’ cried the cook, 
advancing threateningly. 

“I’ll wait and see how badly he is hurt,” 
stoutly replied Stanley, now surprised to find 
himself no longer afraid. “Bring some 
water. ’ ’ 

The cook mechanically dipped into a pail and 
between them Gilvey soon regained his senses. 
Then with a new burst of rage the cook re- 
peated, “You’re fired. Git! I’ll have no 
trouble-makers here.” 

“I may be fired, as you say, but I am no 
trouble-maker. That man has abused me from 
the start. You have laughed at him and en- 
couraged him. If either of us had been killed 
to-day the blood would have been on your 
head,” indignantly accused Stanley. 

The cook lowered his tone, but lost none of 
his insistence, as he said, “You’re through. 
Git your time. Gilvey may have nagged you a 
bit too hard. I may have done wrong to laff, 
but the woods are full of chore boys, while a 
good second-man is hard to find, and harder to 
hold. So, git!” 

“What’s the matter? Had a raise in pay?” 
cried Bub as Stanley found him cleaning three 
rifles back of the office. The query was occa- 
sioned by Stanley’s new bearing. He walked 


STANLEY’S FIEST JOB 


35 


more erect and his eye was clearer. The lines 
about his mouth had disappeared and there was 
almost the shadow of a smile on his face. 
‘‘What’s up? Money from home?” anxiously 
persisted Bub. 

“No, I’m discharged,” informed Stanley, 
dropping beside the rifles. 

“Fired!” gasped Bub in dismay, rubbing his 
nose with an oily rag. “And I’d planned on 
we two having such good times. Fired ! And 
to think you feel good over it.” His voice was 
now one of reproach. 

“I’m sorry I’m discharged,” said Stanley, 
“but Gilvey will never abuse me again.” And 
he hastened to relate his experience. 

Bub’s eyes blazed with joy as he listened and 
he threw his hands wildly about as Stanley 
reached the climax. “Hooray!” he softly 
bleated. “I love you for it. I’ll git you a job 
on the loading gang. It ’ll break your back for 
a few days, but it ’s the only place you can work 
in after being fired. You see, McPherson hates 
Gilvey. Mac is the boss of the loaders. If I 
can hustle you down there before Hatton learns 
of the fracas you’ll be let alone once Mac has 
hired you. Come, my warrior boy, let’s 
hurry.” 


CHAPTEE THEEE 

STANLEY WANTS A CHANGE 

“Now, Sonny, yon keep shnt,” admonished 
McPherson as Bub began a voluble eulogy on 
bis friend. “I guess this young man is big 
enough to do bis own talking.” Then to Stan- 
ley, “What can you do?” 

“I can work bard and do my best,” eagerly 
replied Stanley. 

“That is a great deal, but not quite enough 
up here,” slowly informed McPherson, care- 
fully whittling a chip of pine into a cube. 
“What you call working bard might strike us 
as being a pretty thin effort. Your bands 
don^t look as if they’d been used much.” 

“But be just—” began Bub, excitedly, as be 
caught a glimpse of the stern faced Hatton ap- 
proaching. 

“Keep shut,” broke in McPherson, not un- 
kindly. “Never see such a younker to talk. 
You ought to be a auctioneer. Now, young 
man,” this to Stanley, “I guess there’s nothing 
doing for you. What I need is men that can 
pile, load and unload lumber, toss pulp squares 

36 


STANLEY WANTS A CHANGE 37 


about and keep at it between meals to the last 
second.” 

‘Hf I can’t do a man’s work you can pay me 
a boy ’s pay, ’ ’ entreated Stanley. ‘ ‘ Surely, my 
labor would be worth something.” 

‘‘That’s the boy of it; you don’t examine into 
things. Only so many men can work around a 
lumber pile, or pass pulp squares into a car. 
You’d take up as much room as an able-bodied 
man without doing the man’s work. It ain’t 
what we call economy. If you had a hoss that 
could only pull a colt’s load you’d not waste 
time by hitching him up with a real worker, eh? 
Of course not. Where ’ve you been working?” 

“In the kitchen,” bitterly replied Stanley, 
his hopes now down to zero. 

“Then I’d advise you to dig back to the 
kitchen,” curtly said McPherson. 

“But, Mister McPherson, he’s had a row with 
Gilvey and has got the best of him and he can’t 
go back there,” exploded Bub, now in a frenzy 
to clinch the situation before Hatton could 
arrive. 

“What! licked Gilvey,” exclaimed McPher- 
son, his eyes lighting. 

“He assaulted me and I only defended my- 
self and in the tussle he fell underneath and cut 
his head open,” apologized Stanley. 


38 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


‘ ‘ Licked Gilvey, eh ? ’ ’ murmured McPherson, 
his rugged features relaxing. ^‘That feller 
makes poor coffee a purpose, just because he 
knows IM rather have a good cup of coffee 
than the best meal ever cooked.” Then almost 
fiercely, ‘‘So that’s the way you start in to git 
a job, eh? You come in here and go a bully- 
ing and rowdying ’round and expect hard 
working bosses to find you work when your evil 
ways has kicked you out of a job. I’m ashamed 
to hear you confess it.” And McPherson 
frowned heavily on the disconsolate youth. 

“I’m sorry to have troubled you. I had 
hoped to get a chance to earn my living,” said 
Stanley, hanging his head as he turned to walk 
away. 

“What’s the matter with you?” sharply de- 
manded McPherson. “Think I’m going to lug 
you around in my arms and hand your work to 
you? Why don’t you git busy?” 

“You mean?” cried Stanley, his face illu- 
mined. 

“I mean I’ll fire you if you don’Uhustle 
down to that car and tell the feller with the 
whiskers you’re to help juggle pulp. Come, 
git a moving.” As the two delighted youths 
raced for the car McPherson softly repeated, 
“Licked Gilvey, eh? Well, well, who’d a 


STANLEY WANTS A CHANGE 39 


thought it. There must be something in the 
younker even if his hands is soft.’’ 

His soliloquy was interrupted by Hatton’s 
harsh voice asking, ^‘Who are those boys you 
were talking withT’ 

‘‘Only Bub and a new feller I’ve hired for 
gang four,” carelessly replied McPherson, yet 
eying the manager narrowly from the corner 
of his eye. 

“You mean the chap the men call Bed?” said 
Hatton, looking after the youths. 

“I guess that’s among his nicknames,” 
easily returned McPherson. 

“Take him otf. Tell him to get his time. 
He half killed Gilvey. He can’t work here.” 

McPherson’s jaw squared and he closed his 
knife with a click. “Say, Mr. Hatton, who’s 
the most importance ’round here? The cook’s 
helper, or me?” 

“Why, Mac, you’re worth a million helpers,” 
Hatton hastened to assure, detecting the danger 
signal in the Scotchman’s grey eyes. 

“All-right; I want that younker in my gang. 
Of course you don’t mind?” 

Hatton smiled grimly at the politeness in 
McPherson’s low voice. He knew his man to 
be one of the best bosses in the district and one 
who could be very stubborn in small things. 


40 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


‘‘Of course not, Mac,’’ he returned. “He’s 
your man now and you’re responsible for him.’^ 

“I’m starting him at six dollars a week,’’ 
said McPherson. 

“Very well; tell the time-keeper. Now give 
me the figures on last week’s shipments of pulp. 
They’re kicking hard down there and we must 
get more stuff through.” 

Stanley found his new job more to his taste 
although the first half-hour found him aching 
in every bone. There was no abuse, but the 
machine-like rapidity with which the men 
passed the large squares of wet pulp into the 
car, called for every ounce of muscle in his 
body. At the end of the first hour he believed 
he must stop and rest, or drop in his tracks; 
but the men showed no inclination to pause. 
Then he seemed to get his second wind. He 
ached in every joint and cord, but by clinching 
his teeth he discovered he could keep moving. 

At last the man with the whiskers, who had 
immediate charge of the loading, turned to him 
and humorously remarked, “You like this light 
work, eh?” 

“It’s pretty tough, but it’s good to have a 
try at a man’s work,” panted Stanley. 

“Wal, you make a pretty good try. Now git 
up in the car and take your time seeing the 


STANLEY WANTS A CHANGE 41 

stuff is piled squarely,’^ kindly directed the 
man. 

In a few moments Stanley jumped down 
from the door and announced, ^^No use of me 
in there. Everything is squared up beauti- 
fully.’’ 

‘^Then git over on that pile of boards and 
keep tally till I call you,” snapped the man. 

Then Stanley appreciated that he had found 
a new friend, who was trying to find a way to 
allow him a breathing spell. His heart swelled 
with gratitude and for thirty minutes he en- 
joyed the luxury of complete relaxation. 

‘^Hi! going to loaf all day?” bawled the man 
at last. 

Stanley leaped to his feet, his eyes blazing 
his thanks, and with renewed zeal assailed the 
ever arriving squares of pulp. 

That night he slept the sleep of the exhausted 
and did not have to go to work until seven 
o’clock in the morning. The next few days 
were a repetition of the first, only now his 
muscles began to harden and respond more 
quickly and less painfully to the call made upon 
them. Then he was shifted to the lumber gang 
and underwent new torture. 

The boards were long and heavy and his 
hands filled with splinters until the boss 


42 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


accosted him brusquely one day and concluded 
by giving him a pair of old gloves. He now 
found himself doing a man ’s work, indeed. And 
the man at the other end of the board never 
waited for him to get a grip on the lumber, but 
with head bowed threw his end onto the flat car. 
This often resulted in a benumbing jar to Stan- 
ley’s whole frame as one end of the heavy tim- 
ber fell on the car while the other end was in his 
hands. But he asked no quarter and pluckily 
stuck to his task. 

Bub had been away from the settlement for 
several days and it was with genuine pleasure 
that Stanley limped to his room one night and 
found the good-natured youth sitting on the 
bed. 

‘‘Well, my son; how goes things?” cried out 
Bub, jumping to his feet and warmly clasping 
the other’s hand. “Licked any more people?” 

“Bub, I never knew I could be so glad to see 
anyone as I am to see you,” earnestly replied 
Stanley. 

Bub’s face burned red with pleasure, 
although he said, “0 stop your kidding. Any- 
one abusing you ? If Whiskers bears down on 
you just let me know and I’ll have a talk with 
him.” 

For the first time since his arrival at the 


STANLEY WANTS A CHANGE 43 


mills Stanley laughed aloud. ^ ^You’re the. 
queerest chap I ever met, Bub,’’ he said. ^‘No, 
Mr. White — please don’t call him Whiskers — 
has treated me mighty well. He’s rough as a 
bear, but he’s good to me. Where ’ve you 
been?” 

‘^0 trotting ’round with Abner Whitten, our 
best timber cruiser. He’s a sort of cousin to my 
father and I work with him. In winter time 
he’s the walking boss and goes all up through 
the region north of the Kangeleys, visiting 
camp after camp, crosses over to the Kennebec 
Valley and on up to the West Branch of the 
Penobscot. I tell you that man knows his 
business.” 

Stanley’s eyes glistened. wish he’d 
let me go with you. That’s the kind of 
life I’d like; free and easy and out in the 
open.” 

Bub smothered a smile and assured, ‘‘My 
son, if you are looking for a snap don’t take 
to cruising. It may read pretty in books, but 
did you ever carry seventy-five pounds of grub 
and equipment through an overgrown tote 
road? It’s no picnic.” 

“I can do it,” promptly declared Stanley. 
“Mr. White says I can do almost as well as a 
man on the loading gang.” 


44 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 

‘^Then why don’t you want to stick to itU^ 
asked Bub, a bit suspicious. 

Stanley threw out bis bands passionately as 
be explained, not over-conceited. Bub, but 
that loading job is tiresome. It isn’t the bard 
work, but I owe it to my intelligence to get 
something better. We are nothing but cogs in 
a machine, lumber and pulp, pulp and lumber, 
day in and day out. I could do it just as well, 
perhaps better, if I didn’t know how to read or 
write. Why, they train elephants in India to 
pile lumber. Now I want a chance where I can 
think a bit.” 

<‘Why don’t you think while loading? Did 
you ever stop to think how the boards you pile 
were cut way up north; how they were sent 
down the river, towed across lakes, sluiced from 
one lake to another, hauled against the current 
between lakes by endless chains, and at last how 
the cedar is cut into shingles, pine into lum- 
ber and clapboards, how fir, spruce and pop- 
lar goes into pulp, only we don’t handle much 
of the last, if any. Did you ever stop to think 
of the money spent and the lives lost before 
you can get a job tossing lumber!” 

^‘No; I never thought of it before because 
I am green,” soberly replied Stanley. “But 
now you’ve set me thinking I am all the more 


STANLEY WANTS A CHANGE 45 

anxious to go with you and see the work at 
the beginning. Wouldn’t you like to have me 
along, Bub?” 

The note of entreaty atfected Bub keenly and 
he cried, “I’d be awfully pleased if you was 
one of us. But, honest, Stanley, Ab Whitten 
is a most peculiar man and he ’d never consent, 
or I would have asked him before this.” 

Stanley’s face became downcast. “When 
do you start?” he asked. 

Bub dropped his eyes and tried to speak in- 
differently as he replied, “To-morrow.” 

“So soon,” sighed Stanley. “Where are 
you bound for?” 

Bub’s eyes brightened as he replied, “I don’t 
know, but it’s something big. We’re taking 
three rifles and Hatton wants to see Abner to- 
night for a last talk. I suspect that Jim Nace 
and his gang has been up to something pretty 
stiff.” 

“Who’s Nace?” inquired Stanley, now 
deeply interested at the hint of a hazardous 
undertaking. 

“He’s the worst timber pirate in the State. 
He’s not satisfied with letting out jobs to 
small operators and then beating ’em out of 
their money, but it’s believed he’s stolen mil- 
lions of spruce and pine during the last thirty 


46 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 

years. Of course we wouldn’t mix up with 
him if he hadn’t robbed the company in some 
way. I tell you, Stan, it’s going to be exciting 
before we return. We’re to push right 
through to Kennebago river and outfit there. 
The company has wangans all up through, even 
beyond Parmachena lake and east along the 
Dead river.” 

‘ ‘ The company has what there 1 ’ ’ asked Stan- 
ley, looking much puzzled. 

“Wangans, Mister Malcolm. A wangan is 
a store-house, where they keep the equipment. 
You can git blankets, blue and red shirts, trou- 
sers, heavy woolen cloth coats called Macki- 
naws — they look like a hoss-blanket and have 
a belt, made in colors that are very giddy— and 
then there are pontiacs, or single breasted 
woolen coats. Then there is tobacco and lini- 
ment. You never see so much tobacco and lin- 
iment as is used in the woods. The loggers 
are strong on both. Then there are mittens, 
leggings; in short, everything a man would 
need in the woods.” 

“That’s where I want to go,” repeated Stan- 
ley, his very eyes wistful. “I can’t learn any- 
thing piling lumber.” 

“No?” sweetly said Bub. “Let’s see; you’ve 
been handling spruce. Do you know how many 


STANLEY WANTS A CHANGE 47 


spruce logs was necessary to scale a thousand 

feetr’ 

Stanley shook his head and looked blank. 

‘‘It wouldn’t have hurt you to have asked,” 
suggested Bub, his eyes twinkling. 

“Well, I ask now,” humbly said Stanley. 

Bub threw out his chest importantly and 
carelessly explained, “From ten to a dozen. 
In the old days it wouldn’t take more’n half of 
that number. Did you know a fir looks like a 
spruce, only has a smoother bark and when 
growing shows a little lighter shade of green? 
I thought so. Did you know a pine’ll stand more 
heat than any other tree up here and will live 
when other trees are killed by fire? Dear! 
dear! Did you know a spruce takes about 
seventy-five years to get a six-inch diameter at 
breast height? And that if not cut down will 
live two or three hundred years?” 

“I know none of these things,” sadly replied 
Stanley. 

“I’ll give you an easy one,” kindly encour- 
aged Bub. “We had a boom break on the lake 
yesterday. Now which would you prefer, to 
have a boom of logs break on a calm day or a 
windy day?” 

“On a calm day,” promptly answered Stan- 
ley, recovering some of his composure. 


48 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISERS 

Bub grinned. “Wrong again. On a calm 
day they scatter in all directions and if the lake 
is a big one it ain’t hardly worth while to pick 
’em up. On a windy day they drive ashore in 
a bunch and are sure to fetch up somewhere. 
On a calm day there seems to be an undertow, 
and it’s amazing how quickly they’ll scatter in 
all directions.” 

“I admit I’m ignorant,” said Stanley; “but 
that’s all the more reason why I should go with 
you and have you tell me things. I can’t keep 
asking the men here as the most of them will 
only swear at me. ’ ’ 

Bub pursed up his lips thoughtfully. “It 
would be lots of fun to have you along and I’m 
willing to ask Abner. We’ll find him now; 
only, don’t git your hopes up. You stand about 
as much chance as you would to git Hatton’s 
job. We’ve got to travel fast, cruise several 
cants along Mt. Jim, besides obeying important 
orders which I ain’t found out about as yet.” 

Stanley moved to the door. “Let’s waste no 
time in finding him. I’ll work for my board.” 

“If you offer to do that he wouldn’t take 
you,” smiled Bub. “And again, we must wait 
till he’s had his supper. He’d refuse anything 
before he’s had his meal. Abner is the great- 
est man for thinking about his food that you 


STANLEY WANTS A CHANGE 49 


ever saw. Wait a minute, so’s we’ll be sure 
he’s finished.” 

Abner Whitten was a most eccentric man. 
He lived in two hobbies: loyalty to his em- 
ployers and worry about food supplies. Yet 
he was not what the men called a heavy 
feeder.” A stranger to hear him talk would 
believe he was a glutton or was perpetually 
being starved to death, while in truth he ate 
but little. The greater part of his life had been 
spent in the woods and Bub had not exagger- 
ated his value as a timber cruiser and ‘‘walk- 
ing-boss.” When new lands were to be opened 
up it was Abner who was sent to spy out the 
situation. In the operating season, or during 
the winter months, he passed on snowshoes and 
on tote teams from camp to camp, keeping a 
general supervision over a thousand and one 
details pertaining to the various crews. 

While the youths were waiting for him to 
eat his fill he had finished his evening meal and 
proceeded to the office, where Hatton awaited 
him. 

“You start to-morrow?” greeted Hatton, 
speaking nervously. 

Abner nodded and seated himself on the edge 
of a table, swinging one leg as he waited for 
his superior to continue. 


50 THE YOUNG TIMBEK-CKUISERS 


‘‘Who do you take?’’ 

“Noisy Charlie and the boy, Bub,” replied 
Abner. 

“Very well; here is the copy of the old and 
new lines. Unless we can prove our boundary, as 
we know it was run out in 1800, the Nace outfit 
will skin us to the tune of more than one hun- 
dred thousand dollars.’^ And Hatton handed 
over a paper which revealed the following : 



“Of course they’ve done everything to con- 
ceal the old monuments,” muttered Abner, in- 
tently studying the triangle which the company 
was in danger of losing. 

“Yes; our surveyors were unable to find 
anything to warrant our contention. On the 
other hand they say the markings on the beech. 


STANLEY WANTS A CHANGE 51 


along the line claimed by Nace, has every ap- 
pearance of being genuine. The surveyor’s 
private mark, two circles linked and crossed by 
an arrow, is there, as well as the initials of the 
original owners.” 

“They’ve got us unless the unexpected turns 
up,” said Abner, simply, turning the paper 
over and over in his hands. “Nace is too 
good a politician to buck up against us in 
the courts unless he’s sure his line will stand 
law.” 

“He may have us, but he is a scoundrel and 
anything he’s in is usually rotten at the core. 
Now I am positive that he is swindling us out 
of eighty acres of the best spruce timber in the 
State and I’m sending you up there to prove 
that fact.” And Hatton’s iron jaws clicked 
loudly. 

“I’ll do everything I can,” simply replied 
Abner, rising to go. “I suppose I’d better 
cruise Mt. Jim on the way up so’s not to excite 
any suspicion.” 

“Sure; and don’t let even the guide know 
your destination till you’re most there,” added 
Hatton. 

“I understand; I’m not much of a talker,” 
reminded Abner, walking to the door. 

He was still, deep in thought when Stanley 


52 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISEES 

and Bub accosted him. At first he did not 
sense their presence and when they repeated 
their salutation he waved them aside impa- 
tiently and with bowed head walked slowly 
towards the edge of the settlement. He knew 
he was approaching a crisis in his affairs. He 
had been on many ventures for the company, 
had made many cruises, had managed many 
camps, and never yet had failed to show the 
expected results. But now there seemed small 
chance for success. He knew that Nace must 
be extremely confident to invite a litigation 
from so powerful a rival. If the line had been 
changed it must have been changed fully a 
score of years before, or when Nace was be- 
ginning his career as an operator. Abner 
could not but help admiring the forethought 
that prompted the swindle. 

‘^To think of his shifting that line and then 
waiting twenty years before trying to turn the 
trick,’’ he muttered, half aloud. 

“Could we speak to you, Mister Whit- 
ten?” politely repeated Bub for the fifth time. 

“What do ye want?” suspiciously asked 
Abner. “When ye come snooping ’round and 
a mistering me I know something is up. Have 
ye seen to the food for to-morrer?” 

“Yes, sir; I’ve put in three tins of that 


STANLEY WANTS A CHANGE 53 

sliced ham you like so well/’ eagerly assured 
Bub. 

Three tins, eh?” pondered Abner. Then 
quickly, ‘^Make it six; we might git stalled 
somewhere for a day or so. If we make the 
Kennebago day after to-morrer it won’t have 
done any harm to have the extry tins along. 
Kind of look over Charlie’s packs and see if 
he’s got enough of everything. Then — but who 
have we here?” And he glanced keenly at 
Stanley. 

‘‘He’s a friend of mine,” informed Bub, try- 
ing to speak in an unconcerned voice. 

“Uh! Didn’t know ye had any friends. 
Prob’ly as wurthless as ye be,” grunted 
Abner. 

“Abner, you are the only best friend I have,” 
smiled Bub. “You know it and it’s no use 
playing the bear with me.” 

“Well, well; what do ye want?” snapped 
Abner, but not displeased with Bub. 

“I want you to take Stanley along with us. 
He’s a good worker and will help us more’n 
he’ll hinder us and—” 

“Stop it!” roared Abner, waving his hands. 
“What do ye mean by trying to force help 
onto me? Of course he can’t go. He’d eat 
more’n a dozen men, to begin with. Didn’t 


54 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


I see Mm feeding the first night he was 
here!” 

‘‘At that time he was half sMrved ; he doesn’t 
eat much now,” defended Bub. 

“It’s no use; quit talking,” grumbled Ab- 
ner. “I’ve seen too many of them tMn, 
scrawny fellers not to know a big feeder when 
I see one. It ain’t no place to be took starving 
up in the woods. Besides, I don’t need any- 
one else.” 

“Bub told me he knew you wouldn’t take 
me,” spoke up Stanley, “but I urged him to 
ask you, as I awfully wanted to make the trip.” 

“Do ye know the woods?” asked Abner, 
veiling a sarcastic gleam in his shrewd eyes. 

“I’ve camped out quite a few times,” eagerly 
replied Stanley. 

“I see,” sniffed Abner. “Drank spring 
water out of fancy drinking cups and thought 
ye was roughin’ it, eh? If ye was dying of 
thirst in the woods and see a loon flying above 
ye and had a gun, what would ye do ? ” 

“I’d shoot the loon,” promptly replied Stan- 
ley, bracing back Ms shoulders as he became 
more confident. 

Bub’s groan told him, however, that he had 
erred, even before Abner exploded, “Ye would, 
would ye? Wal, I thought so. Ye’d make a 


STANLEY WANTS A CHANGE 55 


woodsman in about seventeen million years. 
Wbat’d ye shoot the loon for? Did he ever do 
ye any harm?’’ 

“I thought one could drink his blood,” ven- 
tured Stanley, trying to get his cue from Bub’s 
worried face. 

“Ye two just scat! Clear out! I want to 
think,” commanded Abner, giving them his 
back. 

“For mercy’s sake, Stan, what made you say 
anything so idiotic as that,” complained Bub, 
as they walked back to the boarding house. 

“What should I have said?” cried Stanley, 
now thoroughly exasperated. “Try to tame 
the loon, tie a message to his leg? Why did he 
bring in the gun if he didn’t mean for me to 
shoot?” 

“He was just trying you,” sadly explained 
Bub. “Of course, if you knew the ABC about 
the woods you’d know the loon was pointing 
for water. That’s what you should have said. 
And you should have added that while follow- 
ing that course you’d keep your eye peeled for 
the Indian cucumber plant, so’s to dig up one 
and stop your thirst. It’s no use for me to try 
to describe it to you — ” 

“Not a bit,” interrupted Stanley. “It’ll be 
much better to wait and show me one.” 


56 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CKUISERS 


‘‘You’d have to go into the woods for me to 
do that,” said Bub. “I shan’t have time till 
after this trip.” 

“Oh, yes, you will; you’ll show me lots of 
them during the trip. I’m going with you, you 
know,” smiled Stanley. 

“How?” gasped Buh. 

“I don’t know, unless I walk. But I’m go- 
ing,” cried Stanley. “I’ve been bossed about 
and swore at and now I’m going to see the 
woods. And Mr. Whitten must include me in his 
party. I don’t know just how it is to be 
worked. Bub, but it’s going to be worked just 
the same. What time do you start to-mor- 
row?” 

“A little after the noon hour. The gas boat 
takes us across Umbagog lake to Rapid river. 
We shall push right through to the north of 
Kennebago lake,” explained Bub. 

“All right. I shall be with you,” promised 
Stanley. 

“I snum! but that feller’s got nerve,” ad- 
mired Bub, as Stanley swung away. “He al- 
most makes me believe he can do it. He’s a 
good feller and I must try to learn to talk as he 
does.” 


CHAPTER FOUR 

OFF FOE THE WOODS 


Despite his promise to Bub, Stanley had but 
a hazy idea how he was to overcome Abner’s 
opposition and participate in the trip north. 
When he went to sleep he had only planned to 
steal away and follow the party till they got 
far on their way and then boldly join them. 
When he awoke in the morning he remembered 
that much of the trip would be made by water 
and he realized there would be hardly a possi- 
bility of his crossing Umhagog lake, following 
Rapid river, conquering the long stretches of 
Molechunkamunk and Mooselucmaguntic lakes 
in the Rangeley chain and arriving at the mouth 
of the Kennebago river in time to keep abreast 
of the cruisers. Too proud to confess defeat 
to the still sleeping Bub, he quietly rose and 
stole down stairs. 

He had begun with the loading gang with 
much elation ; now he loathed it all. But how to 
win Abner’s consent*? Long and hard he 
weighed this problem, his gaze vacantly fixed 
on the North. The woods and waters up there 

67 


58 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISERS 

seemed to call him in ever j murmur of the scat- 
tered pines near the edge of the settlement. He 
had yet to learn that these solitary monarchs 
were left undisturbed because they were al- 
ready doomed by “red rot/’ or cancer, and 
were unfit for lumber. He only knew the gen- 
tle song sung by their boughs was pleading with 
him to penetrate the fastness of the big woods 
and seldom-visited streams and lakes. 

“If I only knew a little of what Bub knows,” 
he regretted. This in itself was a goodly sign, 
for by temperament Stanley was inclined to be 
overbearing. 

Then the bell summoned him to breakfast. 
He ate scarcely anything, but did not know that 
Abner had observed his lack of appetite and 
had applauded it. Nor did he attempt to en- 
gage the cruiser in conversation, being now con- 
vinced that all entreaty would be useless. As 
a result he entered upon his dreary task sore 
at heart and oblivious of all about him. 

“Say, Rusty,” broke in White, the boss, 
“could you find it convenient to wake up and 
do as told?” 

“I beg pardon, Mr. White, I fear my poor 
wits were wool-gathering,” confessed Stanley. 

“All right; you’re honest, anyway,” chuckled 
White. “Run down to the mill and ask Me- 


OFF FOR THE WOODS 


59 


Pherson if I’m to keep on with the lumber. 
And, say, don’t run, walk. Take your time.” 
The last was occasioned by the tired look about 
the youth’s eyes. The boss interpreted his 
haggard expression as being the result of phy- 
sical exhaustion. 

Stanley bowed and hastened to the mill. As 
he entered he was sorry to see Abner and Bub 
talking with Hatton. The sight of his room- 
mate recalled to his mind what he must miss, 
and for the moment he was selfish enough to 
envy the happy faced fellow. Then, ashamed 
of this selfish emotion, he turned to leave and 
was only restrained by a glimpse of McPher- 
son coming towards him, walking through a 
storm of sawdust. 

As he waited, his eyes always returning to 
the bowed form of Abner, the latter backed 
away from Hatton, and catching his heel on 
the end of a board started to fall backward. 
Before he realized his own action, Stanley had 
leaped forward and had hurled the cruiser vio- 
lently forward, causing him to bump into Hat- 
ton. 

‘‘What in sin — ” Abner began to protest, 
when he stopped, his wrinkled face turning 
white. 

He pointed a trembling hand at a small saw, 


60 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


revolving silently, and Hatton nodded his head 
to show that he understood. If it had not been 
for Stanley he would have fallen upon this and 
death must have been the result. Bub, quick 
of eye, pointed to Stanley’s sleeve, where the 
sharp teeth had slit the cloth like a razor. Ac- 
tuated by one impulse the group moved for the 
door, where Stanley delivered his message to 
McPherson. 

As he was about to return to his work Abner 
stayed his steps, saying, ‘‘Why ain’t ye gittin’ 
ready to start with us? We won’t wait a sec- 
ond for ye; not by a long chalk.” 

“Do you mean I can go?” asked Stanley, 
hardly believing his senses. 

“No, he does not,” quickly broke in Hatton. 
“He feels obliged to you for pushing him off 
the saw. That’s natural. But anyone would 
have done the same. Hardly a day goes by but 
what some man lends a hand to prevent injury 
to another. That’s all in a day’s work. But 
you can’t make the wood trip. Go back to your 
work.” 

“If ye could only see it plain to let him 
come,” pleaded Abner. 

“No, sirree! There’s too much at stake to 
risk a misfire just to please a homeless boy. 
He obtained work in the kitchen and got into a 


61 


OFF FOR THE WOODS 

fight. McPherson interceded and I allowed 
him to stay. Now he wants to jump that job, 
it seems. By the time you struck Kennebago 
stream he would be wanting to return.’’ 

“I’d never want to turn back,” cried Stan- 
ley. “I’d die first.” 

“Which would inconvenience Whitten. Re- 
turn to the gang, or get your time,” coldly di- 
rected Hatton. 

Stanley’s eyes filled and his heart seemed as 
if it would burst. Then he wheeled and walked 
back to the manager, his face strained and 
his eyes feverish. “If I can give you one prac- 
tical idea which you will adopt, will you let 
me make the cruise!” he asked in a hoarse 
voice. 

Hatton’s first impulse was to repulse him 
harshly; but he changed his mind and in a 
sneering tone replied, “If you can give any idea 
that I will adopt you may make the trip. If 
you don’t give me such an idea you take your 
time and hunt a new job. I can’t afford to have 
young men around of your importance. You 
must make good your bluff, or clear out. What 
is this wonderful idea of yours!” 

“Ever since Bub pitched into me last night 
for not using my eyes and brains, even in load- 
ing pulp and lumber, I’ve been thinking and 


62 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISEKS 


thinking; so if the idea is any good a part of 
the credit is due to him — 

^ ^ Leave out all this explanation. What is the 
idea ? ’ ^ barked Hatton. 

^Ht’s this,’^ desperately replied Stanley; 
‘‘pipe the pulp to the paper mill instead of 
pressing it out in squares and sending it by 
cars.” 

Hatton stood rigid, his eyes blazing and bor- 
ing into Stanley’s flushed face. 

“It struck me as practical,” cried Stanley, 
believing his last chance to be gone, including 
an opportunity of earning a bed and board. 
‘ ‘ They sluice logs from Peppercorn to Richard- 
son lake. Even a six feet drop, the men tell 
me, is sufficient in a mile sluiceway. It’s a 
sharp grade to the paper mills below. You’d 
only have to be careful that there were no 
pockets for the pulp to settle in and harden. 
It seemed to me that it would be considerably 
cheaper than hiring men to press and load and 
transport and unload the pulp. ’ ’ 

“When did you think of that scheme?” asked 
Hatton in a low voice, never removing his 
searching gaze. 

“This morning, while waiting for the seven 
o’clock whistle. I was hating the work, to be 
honest, and wondering how it could be done 


OFF FOE THE WOODS 63 

away with,” mumbled Stanley, shifting un- 
easily from foot to foot. 

‘‘And that is your idea?” continued Hatton 
in the same voice. 

“Yes; I know it isn’t much. It seemed a 
good one when I first thought of it,” surren- 
dered Stanley. “But I can see now that if it 
were any good a man of your experience would 
have thought of it. So, I’ll get my time and 
quit. Good-by, Buh.” And he turned aside as 
he extended his hand ; for he had grown to love 
Bub without knowing it, and he feared that 
tears would fill his eyes and cause him to appear 
unmanly. 

“McPherson,” called Hatton loudly. “Put 
another man on the loading gang in place of 
Eeddy. He’s going north on the cruise. And, 
McPherson, send the surveyor up to the office 
and get me figures on a couple of miles of sewer 
pipe. Hope you have a good trip, Whitten. 
Don’t come hack unless you win out.” 

Neither of the astounded trio could believe 
his ears. Hatton had nearly gained his office 
before a word was said, and then Abner yelled, 
“Wal, I vum!” 

“Why, Stan, it means you’re going!” fairly 
screamed Bub, as the true situation finally fil- 
tered through his head. 


64 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


“Are you sureU’ gasped Stanley. 

“Of course he’s sure, ye young inventor,” 
heartily assured Abner. “Pipe line for pulp. 
Pulp pipe line. Who’d a thought it? And all 
out of his own head! And the boss never 
thought of it. Bet he gits a letter of thanks 
and a raise in pay for his Udea.’ Wal, wal, 
wal.” 

“Stanley, I take it all back,” said Bub in an 
awed voice. “To think of your going to work 
and thinking that out all alone. What I told 
you someone had told me, but you make an 
entirely new thought.” 

“I never would have thought of it if you 
hadn’t dinged into me so and if Abner hadn’t 
refused to take me along,” reminded the happy 
youth. 

“Stop talking and git ready. The gas boat 
is waiting at the landing,” commanded Abner, 
once again assuming the role of timber cruiser. 

The delighted youths sprinted to the board- 
ing house where Bub ’s slender outfit was ready 
to be strapped on his back. 

“I’ve got some extra blankets,” bubbled 
Bub. “That’s all you need till we strike the 
Kennebago wangan. There you’ll be outfitted 
like the rest of us. This is going to be a very 
lively trip, my son.” 


OFF FOR THE WOODS 65 

“It canT be too lively for me/’ joyously pro- 
claimed Stanley. 

“It can for me,” soberly declared Bub. 
“I’ve been in the woods lots of times, and when 
you git way in things seem different. I 
shouldn’t be surprised if you had some of the 
starch taken out of your courage before you see 
the mills again. ’ ’ 

“Pooh, pooh,” belittled Stanley. “We’re 
four and need not be afraid of anything. I say, 
Abner, why do we carry so many rifles? I 
thought game was protected at this time of 
year.” 

^ ‘ Some critters are never protected by game 
laws,” grimly replied Abner. 

“Bears and panthers?” hazarded Stanley. 

“The bears won’t hurt us, I guess. And 
what ye call panther is at the worst the Cana- 
dian lynx, that only fights men when cornered. 
But there is other critters I won’t mention and 
hope we won’t meet. Here comes Noisy Char- 
lie, on time to a second as usual.” 

This was the guide, an Indian. He had been 
nicknamed “Noisy” because it was seldom one 
heard him speak. The lumber men thought it 
a good jest to represent him to strangers as 
being loquacious. 

“This young man goes with us, Charlie,” 


66 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISEES 


informed Abner as the Indian took the lead, 
walking with long strides. 

A guttural sound was the only acknowledg- 
ment Charlie made. The others seemed in- 
fected by his silence and hardly a word was 
spoken till the wharf was reached. Then 
Abner gave sharp commands and the motor 
boat was headed for Rapid river. 

But youth will have its way and before the 
little craft had chugged a mile on its course 
Stanley and Bub were evidencing their high 
spirits by a rapid fire of questions and jokes. 
Even Abner melted a bit beneath their sallies, 
while Charlie expanded his nostrils and stared 
dreamily at the hill covered shores. 

^‘Why do you start so early on a cruised’ 
asked Stanley, now hungry for information. 

‘‘Leaves ain’t out and we can see better,” 
mumbled Abner. 

“I’ve been out on the crust. That’s lots of 
fun,” cried Bub. 

“Crust no good,” muttered Charlie. “Deer 
hear; no shoot.” 

“Eating’s more necessary than good walk- 
ing,” agreed Abner, smacking his thin lips at 
the mention of venison. 

In a short time Rapid river was reached. 
Here the boat was abandoned. A three mile 


OFF FOR THE WOODS 


67 


tramp brought the party to a second motor boat 
belonging to the company. This boat made the 
entire trip through the great lakes to the mouth 
of the Kennebago, where the four landed and 
struck into a tote road. 

‘‘I thought we were to make the trip by 
canoe,’’ remarked Stanley, beginning to feel a 
bit disappointed. 

‘‘Think canoes grow on bushes?” quietly 
asked Abner. “Ain’t gitting sick of the job so 
quick, be ye?” 

“0 no, indeed,” hastily replied Stanley. 

“We’ll walk about a mile and then we’ll 
strike the wangan and our eighteen foot canoe,” 
whispered Bub. “Want to go on ahead? I’ll 
show you a good trick. Can I show Stanley 
my crow trick?” The last to Abner. 

“Wal, I don’t know as we’ll have time,” 
Abner was beginning to refuse when Charlie 
grunted, “Good trick. Make fool of crow.” 

“Go ahead, but don’t git lost,” warned 
Abner. 

Bub sprang ahead, closely followed by Stan- 
ley. Making a sharp detour to the left he 
forced his way some distance through the rank 
growth till he came to the edge of a bog, or 
swamp. Here he stationed Stanley in some 
bushes, and warning him to keep perfectly 


68 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 


quiet, took up a position at the foot of a 
scraggly pine. First he drew his coat collar up 
over his head and thrust his hands into his 
pockets. Then he began making a choking 
sound, a most alarming noise to Stanley. 
Almost as soon as Bub began his vocal efforts 
a crow cawed excitedly from the other side of 
the swamp. The cry was taken up and re- 
peated from all points of the compass, and to 
Stanley’s great amazement a score of black 
winged investigators swept into the small clear- 
ing. Stanley rubbed his eyes in wonderment 
to see the crows circle about the bowed figure 
and then fiercely assail it. More came, and 
more, until the air was black with them. Stan- 
ley estimated that fully two hundred were buf- 
feting and pecking at Bub’s silent form. And 
the choking sound continued. The crows now 
seemed like demons, red of eye and bristling 
of feather. Their harsh, discordant voices 
seemed fairly to scream as they renewed their 
attacks. 

Then Stanley received his second surprise. 
Bub beat a hand against his leg and hooted like 
an owl. Instantly every crow turned in flight 
and faded from view like so many black 
shadows. 

‘‘But what does it all mean?” begged Stan- 


OFF FOR THE WOODS 69 

ley, as Bub proudly arranged bis collar and left 
the tree. 

‘‘The choking sound was a young crow being 
choked to death,’’ he explained. “The minute 
a crow heard it he gave the signal and the warn- 
ing was cawed from crow to crow. ‘Come- 
and-bring-help, ’ was what the first feller said. 
The next came on the jump, sending back word 
over his shoulder. If I’d kept on I’d had every 
crow in the plantation here.” 

“But why did they leave?” puzzled Stanley. 

“Why, when I slapped my leg they thought 
it was the flap of a wing. Then I hooted like 
an owl and they felt sure Mister Owl was in 
their midst. Funny thing, a crow is mighty 
curious and smart, but they are easily fooled. 
They know when a man has a gun and all that. 
But they ain’t learned that owls hunt at night. 
Queer, eh?” 

“What’s that?’^ whispered Stanley, nerv- 
ously clutching his companion’s arm and point- 
ing into the underbrush. “I saw something 
move.” 

For an answer Bub picked up a stick and 
threw it into the thicket. Then he dashed for- 
ward, only to soon return carrying in his arms 
a stupid looking fowl, dark of body and barred 
with darker colors. 


70 THE YOUNG TIMBEK-CEUISERS 

“It’s a booby,” be explained, bolding tbe 
bird out at arm’s length and surveying it criti- 
cally. “It’s a wonder be ever grows up. He 
won’t run when you throw things at him. He’s 
simply stupid. That’s why they call him 
booby. He’s really a Canadian grouse. Up 
here they’re called spruce partridge. They’re 
good to eat, but taste a little strong. Go it!” 
And he tossed the bird from him. With a low 
squawk it ambled leisurely into the bushes. 

“This life is great,” cried Stanley, enthu- 
siastically, throwing back his shoulders and 
breathing deep and long. 

“We haven’t started yet,” smiled Bub. 
“It’s been easy going so far; but wait. My, 
but it’s getting late. We must hurry.” 

“There is nothing to hurt us, is there?” 
asked Stanley, quickening his pace. 

“N-o,” replied Bub, “but there are easier 
things than tote roads to follow, once the sun 
gits down. And when it’s dark up here, it’s 
real dark; none of your village darkness, 
but so black you can’t cut it with a knife.” 

“Here’s the road,” cried Stanley, his voice 
much relieved. 

“But not our road,” corrected Bub. “That 
was made last year. It leads in where we came 
from. This is ours dead ahead. See how it’s 


OFF FOR THE WOODS 71 

filling up with alders and willers and shad- 
bushes.” 

^‘You’ve been over it before,” observed Stan- 
ley. 

“No,” said Bub, “My first trip.” 

“How do you know it then?” 

“I know we should go north and that this is 
the old tote road. One on the other side just 
like it. Leads up to the lake. The bushes 
don’t fool me ’cause I can see the old timbers 
left from the first swamping. Now we come to 
a bit of corduroy road — or poles laid across.” 

“Kind of tough walking,” muttered Stanley, 
as a limb sprang back and left a livid welt 
across his forehead. 

“0 this ain’t bad,” encouraged Bub. “See, 
here’s where Abner and Charlie went through 
and Abner got into the muck. See, here’s 
where he slipped off the ends of the poles. 
Some bad places in here, too. A little later we 
might find some snakes.” 

“Don’t regret their absence on my account,” 
shuddered Stanley. “It’s getting cold.” 

“The nights are pretty cold up here way into 
June or July,” comforted Bub. “Push on 
faster. When the sun goes behind that moun- 
tain it’s going to be some dark in this neighbor- 
hood.” 


72 THE YOUNG TIMBEK-CRUISERS 


Even as lie spoke the shadows began to filter 
through the swamp and in what seemed to Stan- 
ley to be an exceedingly short space of time 
Bub ahead was but a blur. 

“Don’t hustle so,” cried Stanley. “I’m not 
used to this work. Guess I’ve lost both of my 
eyes.” 

“Hold your head down,” warned Bub, paus- 
ing. 

“What if we get lost?” asked Stanley in a 
hushed voice. 

“Camp and build two fires near together. 
Two smokes means Gost’ to Abner and me. 
I’m glad you spoke of it,” said Bub. 

The next few rods were covered in silence, 
and as the two came to a rest Stanley leaped 
frantically into the air, crying out in inarticu- 
late horror, as a loud “Wish-h-h” hissed at his 
heels. 

“What — what was it?” he half sobbed, 
crowding close to Bub. 

That young gentleman laughed until too 
weak to laugh longer. Then he pounded Stan- 
ley on the back until the latter threatened to 
get angry. 

“0 Stanley, Stanley! You’ll finish me yet. 
I never knew you were a record breaker on 
jumping. What did you think that was?” 


OFF FOR THE WOODS 73 

‘‘It sounded like a cat spitting, only more 
dangerous,” sullenly replied Stanley. 

“It was a little brown thrasher. She use to 
scare me before I knew. Really, old feller, if 
you could have seen — Ha! ha!” 

‘ ‘ Quit it ! Let ’s be moving, ’ ’ grumbled Stan- 
ley. 

This admonition was timely, as the shadows 
now were very thick and the crude traces of 
the tote road were rapidly being blotted from 
the view of even the keen-eyed Bub. 

“I think we are about there,” Bub was say- 
ing, when right beside them the night was made 
hideous with notes of wrath. The uproar con- 
sisted of snarling and growling, ranging 
from a bass to a shrill key, and each note a 
menace. 

Even Bub lost his composure and with a 
frightened ejaculation jumped ahead. Stanley 
kept at his heels, his heart beating wildly. 

“Sprint!” hoarsely directed Bub, as they 
reached a clear space and beheld the light of the 
wangan twinkling ahead. 

“What was it?” cried Stanley, his breath 
coming in great lumps. 

“Slow down ; here’s the men,” panted Bub. 

“What you two running for?” demanded 
Abner as he came up to the exhausted youths. 


74 THE YOUNG TIMBEK-CRUISEKS 


^^Only a little race/’ replied Bub, speaking 
with difficulty. 

“White face,” said Noisy Charlie as they 
entered into the rays of the kerosene lamp. 

“I vum! but ye look as if ye’d seen a 
ghost. What was it?” asked Abner. 

‘ ‘ 0 nothing, ’ ’ mumbled Stanley. 

“Be ye goin’ to speak out, or not?” bellowed 
Abner, striding toward them. 

^ “It was a couple of lucerfees,” confessed 
Bub. 

“And they were right at our heels,” added 
Stanley. 

Abner reached for his rifle, but Noisy Charlie 
stayed him by asking, “Make sound like this?” 
And the youths jumped convulsively from the 
open doorway and wheeled about with their 
eyes filled with horror. But Charlie was the 
author of the alarm. 

“It was just like that,” said Bub. 

“Two foxes fighting,” said Charlie, his lips 
twitching for a second. “Face red now.” 
Stanley and Bub retired to the shadows. 


CHAPTER FIVE 


AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 

In the morning the boys had an opportunity 
to examine the wangan. It was an old story to 
Bnb, yet he took a delight in pointing out things 
to Stanley. 

‘^The stock is low now ’cause it’s coming on 
summer. Next fall all these shelves will be 
filled. For the next month a few crews will 
cut and peel poplar. Has to be cut and peeled 
in June, you know; but we don’t go in very 
strong for it,” explained Bub. 

The outfit consisted of an eighteen foot canoe, 
weighing about seventy-five pounds and four 
big calf-skin knapsacks. The latter were 
capable of holding some three bushels, but 
Abner divided up the supplies so that he and 
Charlie carried seventy-five pounds each while 
Stanley and Bub were required to carry about 
fifty each. As the canoe was to be used when- 
ever possible and as the frequency of the 
streams, ponds and lakes permitted of naviga- 
tion for a large part of the way the packs were 
only carried when falls and other obstructions 

75 


76 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CKUISERS 


necessitated leaving the water, or when trips in- 
land were made. 

The supplies, Stanley noticed, were limited to 
salt pork, potatoes, bacon and flour, salt and 
coffee and a generous supply of tobacco. 

^‘Our bill of fare will get a bit monotonous,’^ 
whispered Stanley as he took his place in the 
middle of the canoe. 

‘‘You’ll find it tastes mighty good, and when 
we add a trout or a partridge you’ll say it’s the 
best you ever ate,” declared Bub. “Trust 
Abner to keep in supplies.” 

“Where will we camp!” inquired Stanley, 
hungry for information and beginning to feel 
that he was a veteran woodsman. 

“ Where ’d ye advise!” drawled Abner, who 
overheard the query. 

Not to be caught Stanley took his time in sur- 
veying the rugged landscape. The black 
growth, or cedar and tamarack in the lowlands 
extending up to the spruce and fir, was inter- 
spersed at intervals by hardwood ridges. Near 
the banks of the stream patches of ghostly birch 
grew tall and slim. 

“Well,” he finally decided, “I’d go up be- 
tween those two hills and camp on some high, 
dry spot.” 


AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 


77 


Charlie made a sound in his throat and dug 
viciously with his paddle, while Abner in a 
voice trembling with impatience, asked Why T’ 

^‘For two things,’’ replied Stanley, now confi- 
dent he was answering correctly. ‘‘I’d camp 
where I could get a fine view of the mountains 
to the west and northwest and where I wouldn’t 
get cold from sleeping near the water. ’ ’ 

“By jing! if we was nearer the mills I’d go 
back and jump on that there saw and tell ’em 
to keep ye chained,” exploded Abner. 

“Good!” endorsed Charlie. 

“Why! what have I said now?” cried Stan- 
ley. 

“What are we out here for?” rebuked Abner, 
resting his paddle. “Are we here for views, 
or timber? Why do we f oiler the streams? 
It’s because the timber has got to come down 
the streams. I’m surprised at ye. It don’t 
seem as if ye’d live long enough to yard so 
much ignorance.” 

“Good talk,” muttered Charlie. 

“We camp on streams ’cause the timber must 
come to the streams, ’ ’ added Abner. ‘ ‘ Try and 
remember that. It ain’t no good to find spruce 
if ye can’t git it out.” 

“Then I’d camp under those birches on the 


78 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISERS 


bank and have them cut and shipped down to 
the lake the first thing,’’ Stanley sought to 
mollify. 

Charlie’s moosehide moccasin beat an angry 
tattoo. 

‘‘Keep it up and you’ll go overboard,” 
groaned Bub, under his breath. 

“Is it possible !” murmured Abner, appealing 
to the back of Charlie’s head. “To think of 
Abner Whitten taking a younker out in the 
woods who don’t even know that birch can’t 
be floated down stream. Why in sin do ye 
s’pose them birch has been left?” he continued, 
now raising his voice. Then before Stanley 
could attempt to reply he ran on, “It’s because 
they ain’t near a railroad and because they 
can’t go in the drive. Ye can tow ’em across a 
lake, but ye can’t drive ’em. They’re too 
heavy.” 

“I see,” mumbled Stanley, hanging his head. 

“Don’t see,” corrected Charlie, shaking his 
head sorrowfully. 

“Ye right, Charlie; he don’t see nothing,” 
cried Abner, to whom the youth’s lack of knowl- 
edge seemed incredible. 

“He saw a saw,” meekly reminded Bub. 

Abner half opened his mouth, then swallowed 
convulsively. “I beg yer pardon, young man. 


AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 79 

There ’s a first time to everything. Mebbe ye *U 
larn a few things after a while.” 

‘‘Why don’t yon tell him that maple and 
beech won’t go in a drive any more’n birch 
will?” indignantly demanded Bub. “You’re 
the worst man to pick on a feller that I ever 
see.” 

“I’ll tan your jacket some day,” mildly 
promised Abner, lighting his pipe. Then 
kindly, “What Bub says is correct, of course; 
only I s ’posed everyone knew it. Very little 
maple and beech are cut up here and it’s only 
a doller’n half stumpage.” 

“I don’t know what that means,” desper- 
ately confessed Stanley. 

“It means ye can go in and cut all you want 
and pay only a doller’n half a cord. Stumpage 
means the value of the timber as it grows,” 
patiently explained Abner. 

“Boy learn when old man,” grunted Charlie. 
“Carry ’round falls.” 

Thus far the four had been paddling through 
dead water, but now the guide’s keen ears 
caught the sound of falling water, although it 
was some time before the voyagers came 
to the obstruction. It was Stanley’s first ex- 
perience in making a “carry” and he dimly 
realized that life in the woods might under cer- 


80 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CKUISEKS 


tain conditions have its physical drawbacks. 
Not only the packs and rifles had to be toted for 
a considerable distance, but the canoe also, of 
course. Above the falls Abner and Charlie put 
aside the paddle and poled up the swift water. 

Then came more ^‘carries,” around rapids, 
called ‘ ‘ rips ’ ’ by Bub, around big trees that had 
fallen out into the stream. 

It was when about to enter Kennebago lake 
that Stanley received a second lesson in wood 
life. The canoe was floating idly near a broad 
expanse of bog when there sounded a cry that 
was suggestive of the cackling of a hen. In the 
domestic environment of the farmyard Stanley 
would have paid no heed, but out here, with no 
signs of human habitations to break the mo- 
notony of woods and water, the noise caused 
him to start nervously. 

The others in the canoe lifted their heads 
quickly on having heard it. Bub being unusually 
grave of face. Stanley, with Abner’s sarcasm 
fresh in mind, did not venture to seek informa- 
tion. He thought Charlie quickened his stroke 
and from this decided there must be a danger 
signal in the harsh note. From the tail of his 
eye he observed that Abner was gazing appre- 
hensively towards the bog, and he wished that 
he might be given a paddle and be allowed to 


AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 


81 


aid in some degree in making from the shore. 
He also wished that Charlie would turn out into 
the open lake and not hold a parallel course. 
But he said nothing. If danger confronted 
them he would prove he could meet it in a 
manly fashion. 

Then the paddles were held motionless and 
the two men and Bub seemed to be listening in- 
tently. The strain was beginning to tell on 
Stanley when the cackle exploded right at his 
side, and with a half smothered cry he started 
to his feet. 

“Sit down! Squat!’’ thundered Abner, as 
the canoe tipped to a dangerous angle. 

“What — what was it!” whispered Stanley, 
staring at the water and discovering nothing. 

“Mebbe bear,” said Charlie. 

“Keep still,” commanded Abner, as the 
sound again rose from the side of the canoe and 
Stanley was about to capsize the craft. 

The sight of Bub, trailing his paddle, over- 
come by laughter assured Stanley there could 
be no danger and he grinned sheepishly. 

“0 my son!” feebly exclaimed Bub, “we 
knew you’d do it. The minute I heard it I 
knew you’d git anxious if we kept quiet and 
sort of sober. What a treat you’re going to 
be to me.” 


82 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CKUISERS 


‘‘I’m through being nervous,” muttered 
Stanley. “If a panther leaps into the canoe 
I won’t stir a peg.” 

“Wal, ye come near dumping us just ’cause 
of a water bird,” chuckled Abner. “If any- 
one but Charlie was forward we’d been in the 
lake. That’s one reason I made ye lash every- 
thing tight this morning. If we didn’t git 
dumped in swift water I figgered on your do- 
ing it in still.” 

“But where is it? I heard it at my elbow?” 
puzzled Stanley, now intent only on satisfying 
his curiosity. 

Bub caught his arm and pointed to a speck 
on the water. “There it is,” he informed. 
“It’s a water bird, called the pied billed grebe. 
It swims under water with just its nostrils out. 
I used to take city fellers out just to see them 
fidget. Always strike ’em near bogs. If a city 
chap is alone he’ll think he’s haunted and will 
hike into camp pale as a ghost.” 

On making camp that night Stanley went 
with Bub without knowing the programme. 
Under Bub’s direction he cut a quantity of long 
poles and carried them to where a giant boulder 
presented a perpendicular face. 

“Just the rock I wanted,” cried Bub. 

“Why?” vacantly inquired Stanley. 


AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 


83 


‘‘Watch and learn, my son,^’ advised Bub. 
He then placed a long pole between the crotches 
of two convenient saplings at a distance of 
about three feet from the face of the rock. 
“This is the front of the leanto,’’ he explained, 
rapidly laying the poles from this support to 
the ground. 

“But you canT see anything,’’ protested 
Stanley, deciding the structure to be very im- 
practical. 

“I’m building this to sleep in,” reminded 
Bub. “There you are; ten feet from opening 
to the back, ten feet wide and eight feet high. 
Now when we build a fire against the rock the 
heat will be reflected onto us as we sleep, and 
we’ll be snug as bears in a holler tree. Now 
cut some more poles as the ground is rough and 
Abner always wants it poled up even, with the 
slant towards the fire. While you’re doing 
that I’ll fix the roof.” 

Catching the idea Stanley soon secured a 
second bundle of poles and without being in- 
structed skillfully arranged them in the leanto. 

“Good work,” applauded Bub. “You can 
do things all right once you’ve been shown. 
Now watch me lay these spruce boughs, tips 
down. It’s wonderful how few boughs will 
make a leanto waterproof. Pine boughs are 


84 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


even better. And there we have a right angle 
triangle of a house, with the roof as the 
hypothenuse. ’ ’ 

‘‘But it’s warm enough to sleep out of 
doors,” said Stanley. 

“You’ve been hustling,” smiled Bub. “Wait 
till the sun goes down. The nights are cold up 
here and you’ll like your blankets. Charlie will 
do the squaw work and keep the fire going 
through the night, but you and I will git the 
wood. He’ll want the sticks six or eight feet 
long. Then we’ll have to git some boughs for 
the floor.” 

Charlie and Abner now appeared, the former 
carrying two partridge, while Abner had a 
string of trout. 

“I thought it was against the law to kill 
birds,” innocently observed Stanley. “And, 
say, I didn’t hear any gun.” 

“Bird try to bite; I kill um,” gravely in- 
formed Charlie. 

Abner smiled dryly and said, “We’ll have the 
trout to-night and the birds to-morrow for 
breakfast. ’ ’ Saying this he quickly cut the fish 
down the back, cleaned them and arranged them 
in a common bread toaster. Slices of salt pork 
were also added. 


AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 


85 


Stanley was keenly interested in observing 
how Charlie prepared the birds. Cleaning 
them with incredible quickness he brought from 
the shore a mass of clay and without removing 
the feathers placed the clay about the birds un- 
til each was a huge moist ball. Before so en- 
veloping them he filled them with a dressing 
made of bread and onions, several of the latter 
being brought for this purpose. 

‘ ‘ Who do you expect to eat that mess ? ’ ’ asked 
Stanley, turning up his nose in disgust. 

“I will if I git to it first,’’ assured Bub. 

^‘Bah ! it’s all clay. I’m not a clay eater.” 

^‘No one will make ye eat it,” said Abner. 
‘‘I’ll eat yer share.” 

After the evening meal the two men smoked 
in silence for a short time and then knocking 
out their pipes into the carefully arranged fire 
they proceeded to turn in between the blankets, 
lying with their feet to the blaze. 

“It’s too early for bed,” whispered Stan- 
ley. 

“You’ll git use to going to bed early up 
here,” explained Bub. “It’s impossible to 
sleep after sun-up. Minute it begins to git light 
seems if you must be up and hustling. ” 

It was Stanley’s first night in a leanto. The 


86 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


wangan had furnished a roof ; now he was in the 
open and was about to learn his first experience 
in night sounds. 

Charlie and Abner were breathing heavily 
when close at hand rang out a murderous 
shriek. Appalling in its menace to ignorant 
ears it was small wonder that Stanley gave a 
frightened gasp and fiopped over between Ab- 
ner and Bub. 

“Git otf of me/’ groaned Abner, “What’s 
the matter with ye ? ” 

“Didn’t you hear it?” asked Stanley, his 
heart thumping loudly. 

“Great horned owl,” sleepily informed Buh. 
‘ ‘ Shut up. ’ ’ Buh might have added that it was 
perhaps the wildest cry in nature in this region 
where the flora and fauna of the south meet the 
Hudsonian and Canadian animate and inan- 
imate life, and resulting in a wonderful variety. 
But Buh was too sleepy and Stanley crept hack 
to his place on the outside, still nervous from 
the shock. 

Then it seemed as if the entire night was 
filled with blood-curdling threats. To the 
nerve tingling cry of the owl were added the 
blood chilling scream of the Canadian lynx, 
called the lucerf ee, the explosive ‘ ‘ qua ! ” of the 
“qua bird,” or black crowned night heron, and 


AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 


87 


the hideous voice of the old squaw duck, some- 
times styled the “soap-bubble” bird from its 
rapidly repeated “ a-wa-wa-wa-wa. ” Each 
of these unfamiliar voices contained a horrible 
threat to the untutored youth, and only by a 
great etfort did he keep from crying aloud. 
Overhead a Wilson snipe was giving its weird 
wing sound of “hoo-hoo-hoo” in a whistling 
note. 

‘ ‘ There is something about to attack us, ^ ’ he 
finally cried out, unable to control himself as 
a heavy step sounded near his head. 

“Consarn it! canT ye keep quiet?” angrily 
cried Abner. “Think I’m going to set up 
nights with ye ? ” 

“But I tell you, some big creature is just out- 
side,” insisted Stanley. 

“Porcupine,” quietly explained Charlie. 

“Yas, it’s a porcupine,” growled Abner. 
“It walks heavy and sounds like a bear, but it 
ain’t. Now go to sleep.” 

“Hark,” was Stanley’s reply. “Can’t you 
hear it? Two men talking in the woods.” 
As he paused there came a muffled note, indeed 
resembling the voices of two men conversing in 
low tones. 

“That’s a coon,” impatiently informed 
Abner. 


88 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


‘‘Please quit, Stan,” begged Bub. “I want 
to go to sleep.” 

“Yas, git to sleep,” commanded Abner. 
“And when ye bear a sound of some one scold- 
ing under their breath don’t rouse me up by 
jumping onto my chest. For it won’t be noth- 
ing but a skunk. And if ye hear a pumping 
sound, don’t grab for a rifle, for it’ll be the 
‘stakedriver,’ or bittern. If ye hear a o-hoo 
it’s a black bear, but he won’t bother us. And 
I guess that’s about all ye’ll be afraid of to- 
night. Now, keep shut.” 

“I’m going out and down to the water,” said 
Stanley, quietly. 

“Why?” gasped Abner, sitting up. 

“Because I’m afraid,” confessed Stanley. 

“Him good boy,” remarked Charlie as before 
he could be prevented, Stanley disappeared in 
the darkness. 

‘ ‘ Blame it all ! ” growled Abner. ‘ ‘ Whoever 
see such a feller? S’pose one of us must go 
fetch him back. He’ll either go insane, or git 
lost.” 

“Wait. I git him by’mby,” said Charlie. 

In the meantime Stanley cautiously felt his 
way down to the water’s edge, palpitating in 
every nerve. He was trying to punish himself 
for entertaining any sensation of fear ; and the 


AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 


89 


sweat stood thick on his forehead as he ad- 
vanced. Abner said it was a coon ; his nerves 
told him it was two men talking in stealthy 
voices, probably talking about him. He 
dropped to the ground as the great horned owl 
sounded its terrible cry above his head. 

But as he steeled his courage and doggedly 
advanced he became conscious of a new note, a 
note of sweetness and love. It was the night 
flight song of the woodcock, only he gave credit 
to three birds for the music. First came the 
beautiful twitter as the bird rose in huge spirals 
into the evening sky ; then in descending flowed 
the pure strains of a canary, quickly followed 
by a slightly nasal, clarionet-like “b-z-z.’’ 

He forgot the possible o-hoo of the bear and 
the hoot-owPs similar call. The barking of a 
fox passed unnoted and the trilling, booming 
chorus near at hand was unheard ; for now the 
beautiful night sounds were flooding him with a 
wonderful melody and the harsher notes were 
as if they never had been. Out somewhere in 
the darkness the Old Ben Peabody bird, or 
white-throated sparrow, was vying with the 
Phoebe bird, and waves of music rippled across 
the lake and smothered the bog in harmony. 

But the sweetest of all was the good-night 
song of the hermit thrush. It came in a lull. 


90 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


as if in the evening’s programme a place of 
honor had been reserved for this incomparable 
songster. Stanley’s eyes filled with tears as 
the sad, sweet notes were poured forth. It 
seemed as if the singer were telling about other 
days, when all was pure and true, and a shadow 
of homesickness fell upon the youth as he 
sought to interpret the song. 

With bowed head he stumbled along the bank 
and without any particular purpose groped his 
way back to the lean-to. 

Charlie was re-arranging the fire, seemingly ; 
in reality about to set forth in quest of the wan- 
derer. 

^‘Git nerve back?” asked Charlie, gently. 

‘‘I heard the most beautiful song,” cried 
Stanley. ‘‘It will ring in my ears at night-fall, 
so long as I live, I hope.” 

‘ ‘ See bear ? See panther ? ’ ’ gravely inquired 
the guide. 

“No ; I saw nothing. I was so absorbed with 
my music that I nearly broke my neck tripping 
over the canoe. When I fell my hand for- 
tunately struck the paddle and I saved my- 
self.” 

Noisy Charlie straightened with the lithe 
ease and quickness of a panther and picked up 
his rifle. Abner, too, seemed electrified and 


AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 


91 


rose quickly if awkwardly and reached for his 
firearm. To Stanley’s further surprise Bub 
rolled over and seized his weapon. 

^‘What’s the matter?” whispered Stanley. 

Don’t you see; you found a canoe with pad- 
dles. It’s someone snooping ’round to do us 
dirt. If it was a friend he’d come up to the 
fire and take pot luck,” rapidly explained Bub, 
examining his rifle. 

t^Why! it was our canoe, I supposed,” mut- 
tered Stanley. 

Bub, despite his excitement, found time 
to smile whimsically. ‘‘We brought our pad- 
dles up here. You lugged ’em,” he re- 
minded. 

“All stay here. I go,” harshly commanded 
Charlie. 

“The Injun has the best head for this sort 
of thing,” murmured Abner, lying flat and 
pushing his rifle ahead of him. 

Stanley rubbed his eyes in fresh wonder; 
Noisy Charlie had vanished. One moment he 
was one of the group; the next he was gone. 
And no sound betrayed the course of his go- 
ing. 

Then with staccato sharpness and abruptness 
came the report of a rifle, followed by several 
more. 


92 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


‘‘By jing! theyVe jumped Mm!’’ cried Ab- 
ner, rising to Ms feet. 

“Let us run to the rescue,” said Stanley, Ms 
teeth chattering even as he was willing to ad- 
vance. 

“Ye two keep quiet and stay here. If they 
nailed him Charlie don’t need any help. If 
they missed him he’ll take care of hisself.” 

“They missed him,” murmured Bub. 
“Someone fired at him and he returned the 
compliment.” 

As he finished Charlie stood with them again, 
coming as silently as he had gone. 

“Big Nick,” he quietly informed. “Come 
to kill canoe, stop trip. I fool him. He shoot. 
I shoot. He gone.” 

“Was he alone?” queried Abner anxiously. 

“Alone here. Friends near,” replied Char- 
lie. “Big canoe. Friends bring him most 
here. Come rest alone. Go now to find 
friends. Bad place to have boys. Go to sleep 
now.” And calmly returning to his blanket he 
quickly fell asleep. Abner followed his ex- 
ample, but Bub and Stanley remained awake 
for more than an hour, conversing in quivering 
whispers. 

“There’s going to be trouble,” declared Stan- 
ley for the twentieth time. 


AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 


93 


‘‘Charlie ain’t talked as much in years as he 
has to-night,” said Bub. “My son, you wanted 
things exciting. I’m sorry to say you’re going 
to have your wish.” 


CHAPTER SIX 


LEFT ALONE 

When Stanley opened his eyes next morning 
he was surprised to behold the two men and 
Bub up and busy about the fire. 

‘‘We let you sleep this morning, but here- 
after you must be stirring at sun-up,’’ informed 
Bub, sternly. 

“Very well,” said Stanley, meekly. “Now 
I’m awake, what shall I do?” 

“Eat,” said Charlie, his eyes glittering as he 
pawed from the coals two blackened balls that 
once were moist clay. 

“Thank you; but I prefer salt pork, or bacon 
and a cup of coffee,” replied Stanley, wrinkling 
up his nose as he recalled the guide’s prepara- 
tion of the birds. 

“A cup of coffee, please,” mimicked Bub, 
daintily switching to the coffee-pot and filling a 
tin dipper. “Wait a moment and I’ll git you a 
fresh napkin.” 

“Stop kidding,” said Stanley shortly. “I 
meant a dipper — Why!” 

The exclamation was evoked by Charlie’s 

94 


LEFT ALONE 


95 


breaking open the clay balls and exposing the 
grouse cooked to a turn with all the feathers 
adhering to the clay, leaving the flesh as smooth 
and clean as if it had been carefully plucked. 
And the odor was very pleasing. 

‘‘Fix some salt pork and taters for the 
younker, Charlie,’’ ordered Abner. “He don’t 
care for fowl.” 

“I — beg your pardon, Mr. Whitten, and 
yours, Charlie,” stuttered Stanley. “But I’ve 
changed my mind. I’ll have some of the bird.” 

“You should say what you mean at the go- 
in,” rebuked Abner, eying the breakfast gloom- 
ily as he feared there would not be enough to 
go around. However, when he fell to he ate 
but little, and Bub winked luxuriously at Stan- 
ley. 

“Hurry up. Time to go,” said Charlie, sen- 
tentiously, beginning to pack the knapsacks. 

“Where are we bound for?” eagerly asked 
Stanley, recalling the excitement of the night 
before. 

“Ye and Bub will go to a place we have 
picked out for ye. Ye are to stay there till 
me and Charlie call for ye,” said Abner. 

“Where is it?” asked Bub, showing no sur- 
prise. 

“Charlie will show ye the trail,” replied Ab- 


96 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISEES 


ner. “He did a little cruising this morning be- 
fore ye woke np. It’s a small deserted shack. 
Big Nick has been stopping there, but he’s far 
away by this time. We’re going to follow 
him.” 

“He won’t come back and find us, will he?” 
anxiously inquired Stanley. 

“No; and if he does it’s Bub he’ll be looking 
for,” cynically reminded Abner. “If it had 
been Bub instead of ye a mooning down by the 
water last night he’d met with some trouble, 
I’m a thinking.” 

“I ain’t afraid of any half-breed,” said Bub 
stoutly. 

“Boy foolish,” observed Charlie. 

“Wal, I guess there’ll be no danger,” slowly 
decided Abner. “Not so much as if ye was 
with us. We’ll be between ye and Nick and 
we’re sartain he won’t beat back. He knows 
Charlie would pick up his trail this morning 
and by this time he’s on his way to join them 
that hired him.” 

“Who hired him?” cried Bub, his mouth 
opening in curiosity. 

“Never ye mind; leave that for yer elaers 
and betters,” discouraged Abner. “He never 
come here and tried to spoil our canoe of his 
own idee. Someone put him up to it. Of 


LEFT ALONE 


97 


course, he’s glad to pay off any scores he thinks 
he owes the company, but he’d never monkey 
’round Charlie’s camp less there was a jug of 
rum and a few dollars in it for pay. I don’t 
give a rap about finding him; I’m only anxious 
to find them he ’s going to report to. ’ ’ 

Stanley felt hut little confidence as the two 
men made ready to leave, but Bub displayed 
no loss of spirits. ^‘See that hunch of red 
spruce?” shortly inquired Abner, pointing, as 
Stanley thought, in a very indefinite manner. 

Bub did not suspend his shrill whistling, hut 
nodded cheerfully. 

“When ye strike it ye’ll find a hack-blaze 
to the north. The way is so plain you can’t 
get lost. Two miles will fetch ye to the 
shack. It must have been put up in the old 
days when they was cutting the old-growth. 
Ah, them was the days,” and Abner sighed as 
he contrasted the giants of his boyhood, when 
one spruce might scale more than fifteen hun- 
dred feet, with the logs of to-day. 

“All right,” said Bub. “Grab your duffle, 
Stan, and we’ll be moving. So long, folks.” 

Stanley had expected a different parting, a 
shaking of hands, a show of regret, and for the 
moment he felt hurt at the curtness of their 
leave taking. Charlie gave them no heed 


98 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEKS 


whatever, while Abner, returning to his task of 
rolling his blankets merely nodded his head in 
dismissal. 

Bub shrewdly diagnosed his companion’s 
emotions and smiled whimsically. “Not 
strong on sentiment, eh?” he grinned. 
“You’ll git used to that, my son. Once, when 
I was green, I got mad with Abner up north 
of Parmachena and quit him in the night. I 
was lost for three days, but at last saw his 
smoke and got to him. I didn’t even have 
matches and couldn’t make my two smokes. 
When I staggered into the clearing he was 
smoking his pipe. All he said was, ‘ Guess we 
need a little more wood. Bub.’ Never men- 
tioned my running away to this day. ’ ’ 

“That sounds very harsh,” condemned 
Stanley. “When folks part in the city they’re 
civilized enough to shake hands and say ‘good- 
by.’ ” 

Bub fired up at that. “And I guess one 
of them city folks will quit his work and go 
out and hunt up a stranger, or tramp through 
the woods, or paddle down a river for a doctor, 
if a neighbor’s sick, eh? As for being harsh, 
there never was a minute Abner couldn’t put 
his hand on me. He knew I wouldn’t starve 
for a day or so and he let me have my sulks 


LEFT ALONE 


99 


out. If your city friends was so mighty nice 
to you why did you quit ^em? Why didn’t 
you git one of them to find you a job?” 

Stanley’s face drew down piteously and his 
lips trembled as he struggled to frame some 
reply. In a second warm-hearted Bub had 
seized his hand and was crying, “I’m a brute, 
Stan. Just kindly give me a few kicks. But 
you riled me by knocking the wood-folks. We 
ain’t got time for sentiment. It don’t mean 
we don’t feel it, but it doesn’t fit in with the 
rough life of the woods. Say you forgive me ; 
for I’m mighty glad no one got you a job in 
the city and kept you from coming up here.” 

“It’s all right. Bub,” said Stanley, winking 
his eyes rapidly. “It hurt because there’s 
lots of truth in it. I had to come up here to 
get a chance.” 

“Now, here’s the spruce and here’s the 
trail,” cried Bub, wishing to divert Stanley’s 
moody thoughts. 

“Trail?” blankly repeated Stanley, staring 
about. “I don’t even see a path.” 

Bub’s fresh laughter rang out loudly, caus- 
ing two gossiping crows on a dead pine to 
scold furiously. ‘‘Why, you poor innocent! 
Did you expect to find a road? There’s a trail 
dead ahead.” 


100 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISEKS 


^‘1 see nothiDg, not ttie sign of a foot-print/^ 
stubbornly insisted Stanley. 

“If there was a path you wouldn’t need a 
blaze/’ explained Bub, still hugely amused. 
“Now, look. See anything on the trees?” 

“You mean the trees with pieces chipped out 
of the bark?” 

“Sure! that’s just what I mean. See, you 
can count a dozen of ’em, all in a line. As we 
go on we’ll find more. As long as you pass 
blazed trees you know you are following the 
trail,” encouraged Bub. 

“So, whoever came this way first stopped 
and made those marks?” inquired Stanley, 
much interested. 

“No, he made ’em when coming back,” re- 
turned Bub. 

“I admit my ignorance; why try to fool me 
all the time?” reproached Stanley, sternly. 

“Ha! ha! You’re an awfully good feller, 
Stan; but you’re funny. Now wait; I’m not 
fooling you. When the man came in here he 
wanted to find his way out, didn’t he?” 

Stanley relaxed his lips and nodded, albeit a 
bit coldly. 

“So, as he passed a tree he chipped the side 
he would see when coming out. Take this tree ; 
look on the other side. See; he made that 


LEFT ALONE 


101 


blaze going in. Now after he got in and de- 
cided he would want to come again, to build 
the shack, or for any other purpose, he fol- 
lowed his trail back and chipped the trees on. 
the side we now see.’’ 

^‘But why didn’t he chip, or blaze both sides 
when going in?” asked Stanley, his brows 
frowning. 

‘‘Because he did not know when he went in 
if he would ever come this way again. If he 
wanted to come back this way he made his 
back-blaze. That would lead him out. But he 
wouldn’t spend time blazing both sides till he 
knew if he wanted to go over that trail again.” 

“What did he make the trail for; a road?” 

“0 no. When you blaze for a road you 
blaze a tree on each side of where you want the 
road to go,” answered Bub. 

“Well,” decided Stanley, “I can see how 
Abner and Charlie have an easy time following 
the half-breed.” 

“Stanley, you don’t mean that! It’s too 
good to be true,” roared Bub, now convulsed 
with mirth. 

“Say, Bub Thomas, we’ve been good friends, 
but you annoy me,” exclaimed Stanley. 
“What have I said that is so amusing?” 

“I must laugh if you kill me,” sobbed Bub. 


102 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISERS 


‘‘The idea of Big Nick, in trying to git away, 
stopping to kindly blaze trees to show his pur- 
suers where he is bound for!” 

“Idl admit, it does sound rather silly,” con- 
ceded Stanley. “Yet Abner said they would 
find his trail.” 

“My dear boy, he meant that Charlie would 
find a foot-print, the mark of the canoe against 
the shore, a broken branch, a stone turned 
over, and the like. He meant that Charlie 
would see signs of Nick’s flight where you and 
I would see nothing.” 

“Then all trails are not like this and a road 
trail!” 

“I should say not. Say a man wants to hide 
something in the big woods; or wants to keep 
secret a pocket where he is gitting amethysts 
and tourmalines and the like, he makes a trail 
no one else can find. Once I found a runaway 
hive of bees and knew the hollow tree was about 
filled with honey. I wanted to wait till it got 
cool in the fall, when the bees would be numb 
and not wanting to sting me. So I took some 
reindeer lichen and fixed a trailer here and 
there on a tree. Some of it took root and 
grew; some died, but retained its color, and 
no one would imagine it meant anything. And 
I got the honey.” 


LEFT ALONE 


103 


you’re a wonder,” admired Stanley, 
eying his shorter companion with a feeling of 
awe. ‘‘I suppose you’ll be studying up some- 
thing entirely new in trails before long?” 

have already,” replied Bub, compla- 
cently. got the idea from a piece of orange 
peel.” 

^‘Whyl how could you?” cried Stanley. 

^^City chap hired me to take him out trout 
fishing. He took an orange along and as he 
ate it he threw away the skin. I noticed that 
a bit of that peeling stuck out in the landscape 
like a sore thumb. I never saw a color that 
would beat it. If the peeling fell orange side 
up you couldn’t go anywhere near it without 
noticing it. It’s about the only thing I ever 
saw in the color line that seemed to jar with 
nature. So, I told Abner that if we could have 
some parajfine chalk, orange color, we could 
save blazing trees, save the bark as well as 
time, and have a trail you could never miss. 
The paraffine wouldn’t wash out. Then on 
ledges and rocks, where you have to depend on 
small piles of rocks, it would be just the thing 
to make your trail with. They have it at 
the wangan in red and yellow for marking 
lumber, but them colors won’t do. I want an 
orange.” 


104 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEKS 


wish I knew what yon sighed Stan- 
ley. “You are ahead of me in books, even.’’ 

“0 no I ain’t; and I guess I’ll never git so I 
can talk properly,” lamented Bub so dolefully 
that Stanley burst into a laugh. 

^‘Here we are at a stream and — ^beaver, by 
jinks ! What do you think of that for logging, 
my son?” And Bub danced enthusiastically 
along the bank of a sixteen-foot stream. 

“Where’s the beaver?” asked Stanley, peer- 
ing about. 

‘ ‘ The beaver went into hiding long before we 
got here,” said Bub. “But that is their dam.” 
And he pointed to an embankment, made of 
clay and timbers, extending across the stream, 
the concave side being upstream. “Now fol- 
low me and we’ll find their run-ways, or sluice- 
ways.” 

Stanley followed him across, walking on 
the dam, and soon was gazing at little smooth 
paths leading up the bank. 

“There’s six of ’em,” counted Bub. “See 
their timber.” And he indicated several neat 
piles of sticks, measuring from four to six feet 
in length and from two to four inches in 
diameter. “I tell you, the beaver is a mighty 
cute feller. And he knows the lumber game 
better than we do.” 


LEFT ALONE 


105 


‘‘But why does he do it?’’ queried Stanley, 
studying the little piles almost incredulously. 

“He lumbers because he’s a fisherman. He 
builds this dam to hold back the fish. I take 
off my hat to the beaver,” declared Bub. 

“I supposed all the beaver were killed off,” 
said Stanley. 

“Hardly; it was for trapping them that Big 
Nick lost his license. Besides beaver, we 
could catch otter, sable, mink, ermine — which 
is really a small weasel — and the fisher.” 

Stanley drank this in with avidity and 
begged his companion to wait a while on the 
bank and see if some of the little loggers 
wouldn’t put in an appearance. 

Bub smiled. “We’ll see no beaver, but no 
reason why we shouldn’t loaf a bit. Almost 
sure to be something coming here. Only, you 
must keep quiet and motionless.” 

An hour’s silence, however, revealed no new 
secret of the wood, except as a loon tried for 
a trout and failed and laughed hideously at the 
youths when they jeered him. 

On the rest of the journey, taken leisurely. 
Bub pointed out a kingbird successfully 
attacking a hawk and several woodpeckers 
telegraphing to their mates on the surface of 
dead trees. 


106 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CKUISERS 


Just before they emerged into a clearing 
Bub seized Stanley’s wrist and gently drew 
Mm back beneath a low growing pine. ‘‘It’s 
something big,” he whispered, holding his rifle 
in readiness. 

“It’s a bear,” trembled Stanley, as a huge 
form crackled towards them through the un- 
derbrush. 

“No, sirree! It’s a twelve-hundred-pound 
moose,” cried Bub under his breath. “See; 
he’s got only one antler. T’other one has been 
knocked oft. He’ll lose the other one soon.” 

The moose at this point, turned sharply and 
bounded away. “They are never dangerous 
except in the fall,” announced Stanley. 

“Wrong, my son; that moose there might 
have charged us. You can never tell what a 
moose will do. I’ve been treed four times by 
one, and I’d rather have a bear after me any 
time. A moose is the only thing I’m really 
afraid of in the woods. No— I’ll take that 
back. Take a three-hundred-pound buck, and 
he’d be a big one at that weight, and when he’s 
wounded he’s a tough customer to meet. He’ll 
fight to the last drop of blood in his body.” 

The shack bore evidences of being recently 
occupied and Bub’s eyes wandered often to the 
edge of the woods as he realized that Big Nick 


LEFT ALONE 


107 


had just left the place and had a score to settle 
with him. He kept his rifle near at hand when- 
ever leaving the shack. 

An old Franklin stove, heavily rusted and 
broken in several places, did for a fireplace 
and Stanley added to his small store of wood- 
craft when he came to build the fire. 

‘‘Want to burn us out?” asked Bub, as his 
friend stooped and placed new fuel on the 
blaze. 

“You said it was all right for me to build a 
fire here,” remonstrated Stanley. 

“I forgot you are new,” apologized Bub. 
“But that cedar and hemlock will send sparks 
flying every which way. Git some beech, or 
maple, or pine. The pine , will smoke, but it 
won’t spark.” 

“It doesn’t seem that I can do anything 
right,” said Stanley. 

“Not the first time,” readily agreed Bub. 

“Is there anything hemlock is good for?” 
sarcastically inquired Stanley, throwing the 
offending wood aside. 

“Sure,” gravely returned Bub, refusing to 
detect any irony. “The bark is used in tan- 
neries'. In the old days they chopped down 
hemlock and after peeling it they’d leave it to 
rot in the woods. Big trees, too. Nowadays 


108 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


they saw them into hoards and city people buy 
them, believing they’re spruce or some other 
kind.” 

‘‘Bub,” cried Stanley despairingly, ‘4s there 
anything about the woods you don’t know?” 

“What! me? I mean — I?” exclaimed Bub 
in genuine amazement. “Why, my son, I 
know nothing about the woods. I’m simply 
trying to learn.” 

‘ ‘ Then what chance do I have to master that 
information?” asked Stanley. 

“Not a chance in the world to master it,” 
quickly replied Bub, now speaking earnestly. 
“In the first place you are not cut out for a 
woodsman. You must be born here to really 
know the timber business. You might handle 
the office end, but I doubt that. You’re not cut 
out for this sort of thing. You’ll pick up a 
lots — ^lots what I tell you. Your suggestion to 
Hatton about the pipe line was a dandy; I’d 
never had brains enough to think of it in a mil- 
lion years. But you’re not the simon pure 
article as a woodsman. But cheer up, there’s 
lots drawing good salaries who don’t know the 
game any better than you will after you’ve 
served your time at it.” The last was meant 
to soothe Stanley, who did not relish this plain 
speaking. 


LEFT ALONE 109 

‘‘Perhaps I made a mistake coming up 
here,” he bitterly remarked. 

“Not a hit,” cried Bub, clapping his shoul- 
der. “Don^t git huffy because I tell you 
what I believe to he true. You needed to come 
here. But you are the type that goes back to 
town and makes a record. You needed to 
come here to fill out that scrawny frame of 
yours. Once youVe done that you’ll make 
your way almost anywhere.” 

“Some time I’ll tell you more about my- 
self,” Stanley slowly began, when Bub inter- 
rupted him curtly: 

“I haven’t asked you to tell anything about 
yourself. Nor am I a bit curious. I took you 
to be a bang-up good fellow — notice, I am say- 
ing fellow instead of feller— I know you are 
that kind of fellow. Now let’s forget all about 
everything but something to eat. Git out that 
open bake sheet and I ’ll show you how to make 
real bread. Then we’ll catch some trout and 
have a snack.” 

Bub’s idea of a snack was a meal sufficiently 
hearty even to satisfy the fears of an Abner 
Whitten. 

That night, after everything had been put 
in shape, the two remained seated before the 
fire for more than an hour, loath to go to sleep. 


no THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


The fresh boughs in the corner invited slum- 
ber, but both missed Abner and Charlie. Or- 
dinarily Bub would have thought nothing of 
living alone in the woods for an indefinite 
period of time. But now he felt a strange sen- 
sation of uneasiness. He almost wished he 
was in the open with only his blanket for pro- 
tection. 

Finally, in an effort to cast off the spell he 
boisterously challenged, “Idl dare you to go 
out doors.’’ 

“It is very dark outside,” countered Stan- 
ley. 

“You don’t dare go out and walk around the 
shack.” 

“But what good will it do? There are bears 
about here. There are rocks and stumps and 
it is very dark. It is more comfortable in 
here.” 

“I dare you to go,” persisted Bub. “You 
don’t dare to and I do.” 

“Now I haven’t admitted I do not dare go,” 
slowly replied Stanley, smiling in deep amuse- 
ment at Bub’s persistence. “I simply say I do 
not want to go. You say you dare to ; you are 
on record as daring to. So, go ahead.” 

Bub grinned ruefully, but did not hesitate to 
rise and reach for his rifle. 


LEFT ALONE 


111 


‘‘If there is nothing to harm yon and yon are 
not afraid, why take the gnnT’ asked Stanley. 

Bub dropped the rifle and slowly opened the 
door. It was very black outside. As he hesi- 
tated a mouse scampered across the log over 
his head, and with a startled exclamation he 
slammed the door and leaped back into the 
room. 

Stanley gave way to a hearty burst of laugh- 
ter, it being about the first time he had found 
an opportunity to smile at Buh ^s expense. 

“Hush, my son,’’ finally Bub quieted, raising 
a hand. “I don’t blame you for laughing. 
The mouse made a fool of me; but I’ve felt un- 
easy all the evening. My daring you was 
merely to find an excuse for us to leave here. 
Now, listen; I’ll hear it again soon. Hark! 
there!” 

“A whistle,” whispered Stanley. 

“Another whistle,” muttered Bub, reaching 
for his rifle. 

“Something in the woods, a bird, probably,” 
suggested Stanley, his wrists developing 
“goose-flesh.” 

“It’s two men signaling to each other,” mur- 
mured Bub. “They think we are here for the 
night. We’ll make our exit through the 
window.” 


CHAPTEE SEVEN 


A NAEEOW ESCAPE 

Bub was half way through the small window 
when Stanley caught him by the leg and pulled 
him back and relieved him of his rifle. 

‘‘We remain here/’ he announced. 

“Let me go! I must git out! I’ll face ’em 
in the open, but won ’t be cooped up in here ! ’ ’ 
cried Bub in a frenzy. 

Stanley shifted his hold to Bub’s shoulder, 
saying, “Abner said we were to stay here till 
he came back. Here we stay.” 

“Don’t you hear them?” whispered Bub, his 
eyes gleaming with fear. “Don’t you remem- 
ber how Big Nick hates me? I must escape 
from here, Stanley. Let me go.” 

“This is our place,” slowly replied Stanley, 
passing around his companion so as to block 
the window. “Abner said stick to the shack. 
I can be of little help in the woods, but I’ve got 
brains enough to obey orders.” 

“I tell you. Big Nick will kill me,” cried 
Bub. 

“Then he’ll kill me,” stoutly returned Stan- 


112 


A NAEROW ESCAPE 113 

ley. ‘‘For your fight is my fight and I’m stick- 
ing by you.” 

Bub eyed him in growing amazement. 
Heretofore he had been the leader, almost pa- 
ternal in his care of the stranger from the city. 
Now even in his perturbation, he began to real- 
ize that they had changed places and Stan- 
ley had become the leader. For the first time 
he noted that Stanley’s lean frame had taken 
on folds of muscle, and, while yet slim of build, 
presented the picture of glowing health. The 
blue eyes, too, had a new light, hard as steel, 
yet clear as crystal. Then the wailing whistle 
was repeated and Bub was again overwhelmed 
by a sense of fear. 

“I’m going out that winder!” he snarled, 
violently endeavoring to break clear of the 
iron-like grip. 

But Stanley’s experience in handling lumber 
and loading wet pulp squares had made his 
hands so many hooks of steel and with a grim 
smile he pressed Bub into a corner and held 
him powerless. 

“Now you listen to me, Mr. Thomas. We 
are going to obey orders if we die doing it,” 
gritted Stanley in a low voice. “You can take 
the lead at all other times, but not just now. 
For the next few hours I’m the boss.” 


114 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


‘‘Let me alone! Git away from me,” 
hoarsely commanded Bub, struggling in vain. 

“Yes, Vll leave you alone now,” said Stan- 
ley, stepping back. “For I know you are mad 
clear through and wouldn’t leave here if a 
dozen tigers were about to enter the room. 
After you’ve cooled off a bit you’ll thank me.” 

Bub set his jaw and picked up his rifle, his 
eyes flaming. As Stanley had said, he was 
ugly from top to toe and no number of Big 
Nicks could frighten him. He had been the 
victim of a spasmodic fear ; and he was all the 
more angry to know he had given way to the 
emotion and had appeared something of a 
coward in Stanley’s eyes. This very realiza- 
tion also caused him to feel resentment towards 
his companion. 

Stanley, on his part, seeing that he won his 
point quickly subsided into his usual self and 
studied Bub anxiously. He knew Bub’s feel- 
ings were hurt and he was only desirous of re- 
newing their old friendship. 

To accomplish this he counterfeited a feeling 
he did not feel and coldly reminded, “I’m wait- 
ing to be thanked. I said to-morrow. I’ve 
changed my mind. You may thank me now.” 

Bub glowered at him for a moment, then as 
the whistle sounded nearer he sighed in relief 


A NAEEOW ESCAPE 


115 


and the old sweet smile illumined his face. 
‘‘Forgive me, Stanley. I was mad clear 
through at you. But it’s all gone now. It’s 
all gone because we are about to have a bully 
good fight and I shall have a chance to show 
you I am no coward. Keep back in the corner. 
This is my row and I’ll go through with it 
alone.” 

“You know that is impossible,” calmly said 
Stanley, clasping the other’s hand. His face 
was pale and he believed he was about to face 
a desperate situation, but there was no tremor 
in his hands, no unsteadiness in his voice. “I 
told you back at the mills that your troubles 
were mine, just as you made my troubles 
yours.” 

“Well, they’ll have a fine time gitting in 
.here,” decided Bub, half grinning. “What a 
ninny I was to try to git outside where Nick 
would have run me down in five minutes.” 

Eap! rap! rap! and the door shook. 

“I’m going to shoot,” cried Bub, throwing 
forward the rifle. 

“Charlie,” informed a guttural voice. 

“Be careful, ye young tyke,” bellowed 
Abner. “Ye shoot me and I’ll skin ye 
alive.” 

With a hysterical laugh Bub dropped the 


116 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


rifle and sank to the floor. It was Stanley who 
unfastened the bar and greeted the two men. 

“What ye think ye’re doing?” rebuked 
Abner, picking up the rifle and standing it in 
the corner. “Want to murder us?” 

“One boy afraid,” said Charlie, rearranging 
the fire. 

“I’ll admit I was quite frightened,” gener- 
ously said Stanley. 

“He wasn’t,” doggedly denied Bub. “I 
was scared out of my boots and wanted to 
climb through the winder. I thought ik was 
Big Nick and his gang. Stanley kept me here 
against my will. Said it was orders and he’d 
obey if he was killed. ’ ’ 

“Good for him,” cried Abner. 

“Both good boys. Good for boy to git big 
scare,” added Charlie, over his shoulder. 

“Wal, I’m sorry Bub couldn’t take our word 
for it that we’d keep between him and Nick,” 
said Abner. 

“Boy fool to leave cabin. Boy wise to be 
scared,” said Charlie. 

“We didn’t expect you to-night,” de- 
fended Stanley. “We both thought it was an 
enemy.” 

“We followed Big Nick nearly to Cupsuptic 
river and felt sure he was headed for the 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


117 


tangled swamps about Weasel Pond. Guess 
he won^t trouble us for a while/’ explained 
Abner, his tongue beginning to loosen as Char- 
lie deftly prepared fresh coffee and a spider of 
potato and bacon. 

‘‘Then he’s gone for good,” gladly ex- 
claimed Stanley. 

“Looks that way,” said Abner. 

“No gone. Come back, by’mby,” declared 
Charlie. 

“What did you find?” asked Bub, now eager 
for details. 

“Wal,” slowly began Abner; “we found that 
the Nace gang has cut the public lot in Bill 
town. They burned it over, but they couldn’t 
cover up the stumps. Guess Nick was trying 
to keep us from drifting in there.” 

“Can you prove it against Nace?” asked 
Bub, his eyes lighting. 

“Not very well unless I can find his men. It 
was cut years ago. He probably got his men 
up Megantic lake way in Canada and took 
care to git only Frenchmen who couldn’t talk 
English. After they finished he hustled them 
across the border. If I could find some of ’em 
and take ’em up there it could be proved so 
close that he’d compromise before he’d stand 
a lawsuit.” 


118 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


^‘How mucli did he git out of itU’ asked the 
practical Bub. 

‘‘From a hurried look at the stumps I esti- 
mated the stumpage to have been worth some 
twelve thousand dollars. Nace is so tied up 
in politics he couldn’t afford any big scandal 
this fall when some of his gang is up for 
election.” 

“But how could you tell it was a public lot, 
and what does that mean I” was Stanley’s 
double-barreled question. 

“I usually have my pocket maps with me,” 
dryly replied Abner, helping himself gener- 
ously to potato and bacon. 

“And a public lot is a lot given a plantation 
by the state for school purposes,” completed 
Bub. “Guess there’s more’n one such lot that 
has been raided in the last twenty years.” 

“Hard work to see line,” gravely suggested 
Charlie, but with a humorous twinkle in his 
small black eyes. 

“Guess they found the line after making the 
cut,” sourly replied Abner. “At first sight 
you’d say it was an old burn. But just take 
a walk around and there are the charred 
stumps of old growth. Don’t doubt he cleaned 
up fully twelve, thousand, figgering on eight 
dollars a thousand which he didnH pay.” 


A NAEEOW ESCAPE 119 

‘‘How^d you suppose they first noticed the 
hurnT’ Bub slyly asked of Stanley. 

‘‘By the stumps and blackened ground, of 
course,’’ replied Stanley. 

“Wrong, my son,” chuckled Bub. “They 
first came upon a thicket of grey birch and pop- 
lar and knew it covered a burn.” 

Stanley looked questioningly at Abner, who 
nodded between mouthfuls. And Bub con- 
tinued, “After the burn the birch and poplar 
was about the only thing that would grow in 
the soil. Up they come and shade it all over. 
Then the ground gits moist enough for spruce 
and up comes the spruce in time.” 

“But what about the birch and poplar? Is 
there room for all?” asked Stanley. 

“Birch and poplar grow fast and die quick,” 
replied Bub. “That’s why nature selects ’em 
to prepare the ground for the more valuable 
spruce. ’ ’ 

“What do we do next, Mr. Whitten?” in- 
quired Stanley. 

“Always perlite when ye want to learn the 
company’s secrets,” sniffed Abner, pushing 
back his tin plate. “But I’ve no objection to 
saying we’ll cruise the east cant of Mt. Jim.” 

“Can’t what?” asked Stanley. 

“He means jog, innocent,” explained Bub. 


120 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CKUISERS 


' “A jogU’ repeated Stanley, with no intelli- 
gence in his voice. 

‘^CanT ye learn nothing T’ complained 
Abner. ^‘A cant is a watershed. Part of our 
timber up north will go down Dead river to the 
Kennebec and part will follow the west cant 
and go down the Kennebago.’’ 

‘‘Sleep now,” advised Charlie, rolling him- 
self in his blanket and dropping otf at once. 
The others followed his example and this night 
Stanley slept soundly. 

In the morning Charlie prepared the break- 
fast as usual and then stalked into the woods. 
“After fish?” inquired Stanley. 

“No, he’s going back to Eangeley,” in- 
formed Bub. 

“When did Abner tell you?” wondered 
Stanley. 

“He didn’t tell me,” snickered Bub. 
“Don’t you see Charlie has his rifle and 
blankets ? ’ ’ 

“He’s going to deliver a message to the wan- 
gan man,” supplemented Abner. “I want 
Hatton to know about the cut on the public 
lot in Bill town. He’ll send men up here to 
carefully estimate the stumpage. While they 
are doing that and attracting Nace’s attention 
we’ll slip over and look at our lines; or rather, 


A NAEEOW ESCAPE 121 

try to find our lost line, run more’n a century 
ago.’’ 

‘‘When do we start?” asked Stanley. 

“We’ll cruise Mt. Jim till Charlie gits hack, 
then we’ll push right through,” said Abner. 

Both the boys missed Charlie keenly; Stan- 
ley more than Bub, perhaps, as it was his first 
experience in the woods. He had learned to 
depend upon the silent Indian and feel no 
apprehension while near him. Abner, too, 
missed him, but in a different way. He 
missed the cooking. He did not take kindly to 
what he and Bub called “squaw” work. 

On the first day after Charlie’s departure 
Abner was content to remain in camp, prepar- 
ing the packs and studying his maps. This 
allowed the boys considerable leisure and re- 
sulted in Stanley learning a valuable lesson. 

He had wandered about a half a mile from 
the shack and had succeeded in seeing a lynx 
chasing a rabbit and this incited a conviction 
that he was rapidly becoming a woodsman, 
Bub’s discouraging opinion to the contrary. 
Near the base of a towering ledge, carpeted in 
front with dead trees, blown down from their 
meager root-hold, he came upon a low dark 
opening. He might have passed it if not for a 
strange whimpering, whining noise. 


122 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEKS 

He smiled as lie remembered bis first experi- 
ence with forest sounds and unhesitatingly 
approached the spot. What was his surprise 
and joy to see inside the hollow rock two little 
halls of fur. His bosom swelled as he pic- 
tured Bub’s envy of and Abner’s pleasure at 
his woodsmanship. Just what they were he 
was undecided. He observed the eyes, barely 
open, were like little blueberries, and the 
pointed nose caused him to suspect they were 
coons. For Bub in describing that animal had 
sketched out on birch bark his portrait. And 
yet they were different. 

‘‘Probably lots of kinds of coons,” he mur- 
mured. “They’re awfully cunning, any- 
way, and I’ll take them where they’ll be 
warmer. ’ ’ 

He had proceeded only a few rods in the 
direction of the camp, however, when he was 
startled by a snarling roar behind him. He 
wheeled and beheld a large, gaunt black bear 
making towards him with unsuspecting swift- 
ness. For a second he was paralyzed ; the next 
found him running for life over the prostrate 
tree trunks and rocks with the lumbering brute 
behind him growling in fury and gaining fast. 
He dared not look back, for fear of tripping 
and falling and could only gauge the distance 



He dared not look back 








A. 



A « . 


K .* 


A NAEROW ESCAPE 123 

between him and his pursuer by the increased 
volume of the animal’s rage. 

Nor did he drop his prizes. Even in his 
frantic haste to escape he told h im self it would 
be cruel to drop the warm little bunches of fur 
for the bear to destroy. But as he reached the 
edge of a denser growth, consisting of alders 
and young birch he found it necessary to aban- 
don one of the babies. With a pang of regret 
he stooped low and gently dropped it. His 
throat was parched and burning from the un- 
accustomed exertion, but he maintained his 
pace till he found a small opening in the thicket 
that promised easier traveling. 

Plunging into this he was dismayed to come 
upon a small stream which he must cross. He 
feared it marked the beginning of a swamp and 
that on softer footing he would lose headway. 
Behind him, now much nearer, thundered his 
implacable foe. With a groan of despair he 
dropped the other infant and with both arms 
free cleared the brook, slipped on the further 
side, regained his balance, and with the hot 
breath of his Nemesis almost at his back made 
a heart breaking effort to increase his lead. 

On and on with the enraged grumble ever 
drawing nearer he raced, clearing obstacles in 
a manner that would have won him much ap- 


124 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISERS 


plause on a hurdle track. But at last ex- 
hausted nature rebelled, and with a low moan 
of despair he fell over to the ground, face 
downward. 

Then he believed it was all over as the 
bushes crackled behind him. He turned his 
head and to his great joy beheld Abner. 

‘‘0 Mr. Whitten, look out!’’ he gasped. ‘‘It 
was chasing me. It’s upon us.” 

“If I had a good ash stick I’d larrup ye 
so ’s ye ’d remember it to yer dying day, ’ ’ cried 
Abner, his voice choking with anger. “Of all 
the trying simpletons I ever met ye are the 
worst. Git up and see if ye can drag yerself 
back to the camp.” 

Painfully Stanley struggled to his feet, cast- 
ing a frightened glance over his shoulder. 
The cruiser’s stormy reproach sounded very 
sweet in his ears. He was saved. 

“Where is it?” he whispered, keeping close 
to Abner’s side. 

“It’s toting its cubs back to the den,” grufiSy 
replied Abner. 

“What was it, a bear?” 

“It was a bear,” exploded Abner. “Now 
what did ye mean by snooping around her den 
and stealing her newborn cubs?” 

“Were they her cubs?” asked Stanley. “I 


A NAEEOW ESCAPE 125 

thought she’d kill them if I dropped them. I 
thought they were some kind of a coon.” 

“I might have suspected it,” cried Abner. 
‘‘If there is room to make a fool mistake I 
guess ye can be trusted to come along and take 
advantage of the opportunity.” 

“I thought you’d like them,” meekly apolo- 
gized Stanley. 

This but added fresh fuel to Abner’s wrath, 
and he exclaimed, “What in tarnation should 
I want two bear cubs fer?” 

“I supposed you’d like to have them to 
keep and make pets of,” politely responded 
Stanley. 

Abner stopped short in his tracks and wheel- 
ing Stanley about grimly inquired, “Young 
man, where’ll ye have yer body shipped when 
some fool monkey-shine like this results in yer 
death?” 

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Stanley. “I didn’t 
mean any harm. And I’m awfully obliged to 
you for saving my life.” 

“Ye can thank yer stars that I was on the 
ridge and see ye start to run. Even then ye’d 
been mauled to death and me too, prob’ly, if 
the bear hadn’t give up the chase to go back 
to her cubs ; fer I didn’t have any gun.” 

“Please don’t shoot her,” pleaded Stanley, 


126 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 


‘‘She isn’t to blame and the babies need her. 
But I’m awful thankful to you.” 

“Drop that,” tartly commanded Abner. “I 
owed ye that one for pushing me away from 
the saw. But remember this, I sha’n’t always 
be handy to pull ye free of danger. I don’t 
see where ye got together so much ignorance.” 
And he rubbed his brow in perplexity. 

“Nor do I,” sighed Stanley. Then bright- 
ening and his eyes dancing with mischief as 
the shack dawned in sight, “But could you take 
the elevated at Franklin Square, go to Second 
Avenue, make Union Square and catch the up- 
town express in the subway?” 

Abner paused and scratched his head 
thoughtfully. “I’ve been on the Magalloway 
hundreds and hundreds of times and have 
camped several times on the ’Sipoway. But I 
never did any cruising along the Subway. 
But I’ll say this, that even if I was a stranger 
in them parts I wouldn’t go to stealing cubs or 
interfering with a man’s logs and making a 
fool of myself. I’d just set tight and wait till 
I learned the ropes. That’s what I expect ye 
to do up here.” 

Stanley suppressed a smile at Abner’s inter- 
pretation of New York’s underground railroad, 
but was satisfied to drop the question. Abner 


A NAEEOW ESCAPE 


127 


was not, it seems, for on meeting Bub be told 
bim all about it, adding mucb of detail that was 
strange to Stanley. 

Won’t Cbarlie be tickled to bear it,” cried 
Bub, smacking bis lips. “To tbink of a man 
taking bis life in bis bands — and getting away 
with it.” 

“Please don’t tell bim,” begged Stanley. 
“Abner won’t and I don’t want bim to tbink 
any worse of me. Goodness knows my mis- 
takes bave given bim a very poor opinion of 
me already.” 

“I’ll keep a close month, ” grinned Bub. 
“But you’re wrong about Cbarlie. He ad- 
mires you for your greenness. He says be 
never saw anyone wbo could make so many 
mistakes in so short a time. You’re a revela- 
tion to bim.” 

“Let bim be content with what be already 
knows,” urged Stanley. 

Bub nodded good-naturedly and caught up 
bis rifle. 

Abner raised bis brows in mute inquiry. 
“Going after the bear,” informed Bub. 

Stanley glanced at Abner, bis eyes plead- 
ing. 

Abner cleared bis throat and diverted bis 
eyes as be shortly said, “Guess I need ye 


128 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 


’round here. Let the bear go. When I want 
her killed, I’ll do it myself.” 

‘‘But you promised me I should shoot the 
next one,” reminded Bub, much surprised. 

“I know, I know. And so ye shall when we 
git one that’s ready to be shot,” testily replied 
Abner. “But it seems yer friend has struck 
up a friendship with this partic’lar bear and 
wants her let alone. He’s so fond of her he 
goes over and visits when he oughter be catch- 
ing trout fer supper.” 

“If you’d seen the cubs,” cried Stanley. 
“Why, Bub, they are the cutest little things 
you ever imagined. Abner promised he 
wouldn’t harm the mother as the cubs need 
her. She has done nothing a human mother 
wouldn’t have done. I am the one in fault.” 

“Of course if you put it that way I’ll have 
to let her go,” sighed Bub. “But bear pelts 
are worth something, Mister Malcolm.” 

“And I’ll make it up to you at double the 
value of her pelt,” eagerly promised Stanley. 

Bub grinned and Abner winked slowly. 
Stanley flushed to his ears and mumbled, “I 
forgot. It may be some time before I can 
square it off.” 

“That’s better,” said Abner. “Never 
promise what ye can’t do.” 


A NAEROW ESCAPE 


129 


Bub, relenting and wishing to spare bis 
friend, began asking a volley of questions as 
to wbat would be the morrow’s programme. 

“We’ll start at sun-up and make the east jog 
of Mt. Jim,” said Abner. “Don’t know bow 
long we’ll stay there. Ordinarily I could put 
three weeks in to profit in making that par- 
ticular cant; but as things be I shall put in a 
day or two, drop in to see the fire warden on 
top of Hood mountain and then go on north to 
where the real business awaits me. It all de- 
pends on how soon Charlie overtakes us.” 

“Can he find us?” incredulously inquired 
Stanley. 

“He can,” was Abner’s dry response. “If 
we kept going three hundred miles up north of 
Quebec where they’re putting in big pulp mills 
Charlie would follow close enough to cook our 
second supper, I guess. I vum ! I wish he was 
here now to fis: them fish.” 


CHAPTER EIGHT 


OFF FOR MT. JIM 

Abner led the way next morning, the two 
boys keeping some twenty feet behind him. 
The canoe had been concealed where it would 
be safe from thievish hands and Stanley was 
now called upon to carry a heavy pack over ex- 
ceedingly rough ground. 

‘^I’m glad Big Nick has left us in peace,’’ 
he confided to Bub, as he tried to imitate his 
friend’s easy gait. 

Abner said that to make us feel comfort- 
able in our minds,” informed Bub. ‘‘Big Nick 
is ahead somewhere and that’s why Charlie 
was sent back. If we had only Mt. Jim to do 
Charlie would have stuck along with us and 
held Nick off. But there’s something impor- 
tant afoot and Abner can’t waste time on Jim. 
I figure our trip there is largely a bluff, just to 
mislead the enemy and that Abner doesn’t 
want to run any risk of being interrupted in 
the really important work. If Charlie gits 
word through, some of the poplar peelers will 

130 


OFF FOR MT. JIM 131 

be bustled up here to cover our retreat and act 
as reinforcements, you see.’’ 

“How far could we go in a straight line and 
not leave the woods?” asked Stanley, curi- 
ously. 

“Way up into Canada, and then some,” re- 
turned Bub. “About two-thirds of Maine is 
wilderness land, you know.” 

“Will it ever give out?” 

“If they don’t follow the example set by our 
company it will,” he assured. “Our company 
cuts, so as to make a perpetual investment, 
taking so many feet a year and above a certain 
size. Of course we have to cut smaller stutf 
then they did in the old days, when one giant 
pine might in falling spoil what to-day would 
be a half a dozen rattling good trees. If they 
begin on Mt. Jim this winter it may take any- 
where up to ten years to finish it, according to 
how Abner finds the timber to run. Then in 
twenty-five years more it will be good cutting 
again. But we won’t butcher any and every- 
thing the way some operators do. Take an 
individual and he figures he has but one chance 
at the woods and he intends to get — notice I 
say ‘get’ instead of ‘git’ — his and let the next 
generation go without. Our company is in 
business to stay. A hundred years from now 


132 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


the company expects to be engaged in lumber- 
ing. And each year sees the timber run into 
more money. Why, we have one section, a 
square mile, you know, that was bought in 
thirty or forty years ago for thirty-five thou- 
sand dollars. Abner says the company has re- 
fused a million for it since. Some increase, 
eh?” 

“So, some of the operators cut clean, eh?” 
mused Stanley. 

“Do they cut clean?” cried Bub. “Well, I 
guess they do. I remember being in Windy 
Peters’ place up near Jackman just after he’d 
finished cutting on Jim Eawlins’ cant. Eaw- 
lins is a land-owner and sells his stumpage to 
operators. It seems Peters made a clean 
sweep. Well, Eawlins come in, as smooth as 
could be, smiling and hand shaking and Peters 
watching him out the corner of his eye. The 
first thing Eawlins said was, ‘You’ve always 
used me well, Peters, and I want to be square 
with you. Now I ain’t any objections to 
your taking a crew and some bush hooks and 
going over on that cant and getting the 
rest of the timber.’ Meaning, of course, 
Windy Peters had taken everything but the 
bushes.” 

Stanley’s lesson was here interrupted by 


OFF FOR MT. JIM 133 

Abner, who baited at the foot of a hard wood 
ridge and stared off to the northwest. 

‘‘He’s watching the smoke and trying to 
figure it out,” whispered Bub as the two youths 
came up. 

“I see no smoke,” said Stanley, gazing in 
vain. 

“It’s just a yellow haze, but it’s plain,” said 
Bub. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised if it’s Big Nick,” 
muttered Abner. Then seeing the youths he 
frowned, “Don’t either of you wander away 
from camp to-night. I don’t like that smoke.” 

“Big Nick?” inquired Stanley, his hands 
tightening. 

“He’s there, like enough, but he never built 
the fire. There’s someone with him who 
started a blaze when he wasn’t ’round to stop 
it. It died down mighty quick, as if he’d ar- 
rived and put it out. Besides, Nick would use 
wood that wouldn’t give otf any smoke. That 
feller used pine.” 

For the next few miles the trio remained 
silent. Stanley’s gaze was ever focused on 
the point where his companions had made out 
the tell-tale smoke and his nerves were keyed 
up to a high tension as Abner continued to hold 
his course. As they mounted the ridge and 


134 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


caught the summit breeze he could see nothing 
but dark green woodlands stretching to the 
horizon. The breeze continually rustled the 
bare branches of the maple and beech, for as 
yet the belated season had allowed but a few 
leaves to gladden the deciduous trees, and ever 
sang gently through the boughs of the ever- 
greens. There was no trace of human habita- 
tion, not even a solitary camp, and it seemed 
as if the* three must be alone, surrounded by 
primeval solitude. And yet somewhere in the 
northwest was a desperate man, possibly more 
than one, intent on an evil purpose. 

As these thoughts raced through Stanley’s 
mind and as his nerves responded to the sug- 
gestion he found himself becoming timid. The 
danger crept nearer until the immediate boun- 
daries of their course impressed him as con- 
taining a hidden foe. A squirrel, suddenly 
scolding the passersby, gave a prickly sensa- 
tion to his skin and he started involuntarily. 

Abner read his fears and quietly drawled, 
‘‘Don’t git scared. We’ve got plenty of lee- 
way. Once we reach the top of the ridge we’ll 
swing due north. That’s Jim over there.” 
And he pointed to the rounded top of a distant 
mountain, masked in the dark verdure of 
spruce and pine. 


OFF FOR MT. JIM 


135 


‘‘Funny how spruce will grow almost any- 
where/’ continued Abner, as if talking to him- 
self. “Ye’ll find it where ye’d swear a root 
couldn’t git a hold.” 

“How could you get them down from up 
there?” asked Stanley, to whom the rugged 
slopes appeared to be inaccessible to man. 

“That’s easy. Sluice ’em down. All ye 
got to do is to git them started and stand from 
under. We won’t have to use a boss except in 
yarding them down below. Loon River winds 
around the eastern slope, so it makes it pretty 
convenient. ’ ’ 

Among Abner’s other assets was an ability 
to always find a spring when the hour came to 
stop and lunch. This in itself impressed Stan- 
ley as being marvelous. 

“Time to eat,” announced Abner, throwing 
down his pack. “See if there ain’t a spring 
under that ledge. Two years ago I remember 
of finding one there.” 

“Here it is,” called out Bub^ “Clear and 
full.” 

“And if we could put a railroad through up 
here, build a big hotel and charge five cents a 
glass people would say it was the best water in 
the world,’^ sniffed Abner. “Well, it is good 
water. Did ye know, sonny, that Maine is sim- 


136 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


ply peppered with lakes and streams, more so 
than any other similar area in the United 
States! That^s what gives ye the woods.’’ 

Stanley nodded absent-mindedly, for he was 
engaged in idly lighting some dead leaves un- 
der a huge maple. To his great amazement 
he found himself whirled from his play by one 
sweep of Abner’s powerful arm. Before he 
could recover his balance Bub dashed by him 
and in passing gave him a push that sent him 
headlong into a clump of cedar bushes. 

‘‘Say, what do you two mean!” he de- 
manded, crawling forth, his eyes flashing. 
For he believed the man and youth were sud- 
denly taken insane. 

‘ ‘ Hump yerself ! ’ ’ bawled Abner, laying onto 
the creeping fringe of fire with a bough hur- 
riedly torn from a spruce. “Lend a hand here 
or I’ll leave ye to shift for yerself.” 

“Come on,” barked Bub, his face strained 
with wrath and fear. 

“You’ll answer for that Bub Thomas,” 
Stanley choked, overcome by the realization 
that his supposed friend had placed a hand on 
him in anger. 

“I’ll tend to ye soon ’s I have time,” panted 
Abner, moving about like a madman. 

Not till then did Stanley realize the two were 


OFF FOE MT. JIM 


137 


fighting as he had never seen men fight before 
to put out the blaze he had so thoughtlessly- 
started. 

With an ashamed face he followed their ex- 
ample, stamping and beating the little red 
tongues that glided here and there like so 
many serpents. No sooner was one spot ex- 
tinguished before a patch of red bloomed in an- 
other place. The danger zone apparently was 
the point where the hardwood trees met the 
black growth. Here it was that Abner fought 
the hardest. Once the flames entered the tin- 
der like carpet under the spruce and fir no 
human agency could stop it from spreading 
along the base of the ridge. 

Tearing off a second bough Stanley sprinted 
to the spring and plunged them into the water. 
Then he joined Abner and was gratified to find 
he could kill more fire with one sweep of his 
weapon than the cruiser could with several 
blows of his. So fiercely did they labor that 
at the end of a few minutes only a smoking, 
blackened area was left to testify to their 
danger. 

^^Whew!” gasped Abner, sinking down on 
the dead cinders and breathing heavily. 

‘‘That’s why I pushed you,” choked Bub, 
following Abner’s example. 


138 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 


‘‘Ordinary man would have clipped ye good 
and hard/’ added Abner. “What possessed 
ye to do it?” 

Stanley, his cheeks two coals, hung his head 
in dejection. “If there’s a high cliff handy I 
guess you’d better shove me off,” he muttered. 
‘ ‘ I was simply curious to see if the leaves were 
dry enough to burn.” 

“Any other experiments ye’d like to try?” 
asked Abner. 

Stanley shook his head. “I’m sorry. 
Seems as if all I’ve said on this trip is that ‘I’m 
sorry’ for one thing or another.” 

“Can ye think of any more breaks he can 
make. Bub?” queried Abner anxiously. 

Bub gravely shook his head. “The only 
thing I can think of is to let him carry the rifle 
and observe if he looks down the muzzle to see 
if it’s loaded.” 

“I don’t blame you two,” cried Stanley. “I 
ought to have stayed at the mills. I’m not fit 
to be out alone. Of course I had no idea that 
I couldn’t stamp out the blaze in a second. It 
seemed impossible that it could get beyond my 
control.” 

Abner slowly rose to a sitting posture and 
not unkindly said, “Younker, I ain’t going to 
jaw ye; ’cause it’s too serious. I’d carry on 


OFF FOE MT. JIM 


139 


like all tarnation if it didn’t amount to much, 
but this is too serious. Now let’s profit by it 
by making it a lesson to ye. Of all things a 
man should be careful of in the woods is fire, 
especially in May and in the fall. Last year a 
couple of city chaps went out trout fishing at 
about this time of year. They built a campfire 
and then left it. Within three days nearly 
forty square miles of timber had burned. All 
the timbering operations throughout the years 
had just made some little open patches on them 
ridges. Now they are swept clean as a hound’s 
tooth, except where a dead pine remains stand- 
ing, a roost for crows.” 

‘‘And that’s why the state has fire wardens 
stationed on all these mountains,” added Bub. 
“What Abner tells you is just one sample. 
Every spring and fall the sky is heavy with 
smoke from burning timber. We lose more 
lumber by fire every year than is cut by man, 
I guess.” 

“Have ye noticed that I ain’t been smoking 
since we struck the woods?” asked Abner. 
Then without waiting for a reply he explained, 
“It’s because I am afraid of fire, as careful 
and experienced as I am.” 

“I’ve learned my lesson,” humbly assured 
Stanley. Then with an irrepressible glint of 


140 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISERS 


curiosity in his downcast eyes, ‘‘But what if 
it had got beyond our control for the moment, 
what would we have doneU’ 

“Wal,^’ said Abner deliberately, “if it 
really was beyond our control we’d camped 
here and taken a nap.” 

Bub nodded his head in affirmation, but Stan- 
ley could hardly believe the statement. 

“It’s like this,” explained Abner; “you fight 
a fire in the early morning. The minute the 
fire warden on Hood mountain saw the smoke 
he’d telephone across to Crooked Hill and then 
it would be sent north and south and east 
and west. In each case the warden would call 
help, and when he asks help to fight a fire 
every mill owner and operator called upon 
must send crews. Some sixty or a hundred 
men would be rushed in here. 

‘ ‘ Then they would organize and fight the fire 
in front, beginning at 3 o’clock in the morning, 
say, when the blaze is smouldering. The fire 
always grows with the sun and the wind and 
the fire-fighting day ends at 10 or 11 o’clock 
A. M. Then the men go to sleep and rest up 
for the next morning. If the case is desperate 
back fires are set at night.” 

“That means the men in front set a fire and 
so control it that it can only spread towards 


OFF FOR MT. JIM 


141 


the fire they’re fighting,” explained Bub. 
‘‘When the two fires meet the blaze is all 
over. ’ ’ 

“Thank heavens, no damage has been done,” 
fervently cried Stanley. 

“A cent would pay for all the stumpage 
spoiled by this fire,” agreed Abner, gravely, 
“but-” 

“But what?” prompted Stanley as the old 
man paused. 

“Wal, I might as well say it, as Bub is 
thinking it now. WeVe told Big Nick about 
what he wants to know. He’s seen the smoke 
and knows I’ve got some younkers along, for 
he’d never give me credit with starting a 
smoke, let alone a blaze.” 

Stanley’s face lengthened. “Mr. Whitten, 
it seems I have been criminally negligent. I 
must undo the mischief insofar as I can.” 

“Ye’ve been a derned little fool,” agreed 
Abner. “About the other thing I’ll hold back 
my opinion till I know what it means.” 

Stanley reached forward and clasped Bub’s 
hand warmly, much to that youth’s bewil- 
derment. “I’m almost too tired to shake 
hands,” repelled Bub, who began to fear Stan- 
ley was not sufficiently impressed with his 
lesson. 


142 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


know,” mumbled Stanley, moving away. 
“Don’t fear that I’ll start another blaze.” 

“Don’t bear down too hard on him. Bub,” 
cautioned Abner. “He didn’t mean nothing 
and he took his medicine like a man. After all, 
who’s afraid of Big Nick?” 

“I love Stanley,” replied Bub simply, “but 
it’s time he got some sense. He needs to be 
jolted a bit to cure him of doing the wrong 
thing at the right time.” 

“I know,” mused Abner, “but he had a 
strange look on his face I didn’t like. Better 
coddle him up a bit.” 

“I’ll call him back and shake hands over 
again,” cried the warm hearted youth, rising 
and looking after Stanley. “Why! Abner, I 
don’t see him. He can’t be lost. Hi! Stan- 
ley! Come here! We want you,” he loudly 
called. 

A lone crow mocked him from a distance, but 
there was no other response. Again he called, 
but Stanley gave no answer. 

By this time Abner was on his feet, keenly 
gazing down the slope. “After him!” he sud- 
denly shouted. “He’s making towards Big 
Nick’s camp. He’s trying to square himself 
by finding Nick and saying he’s lost and a 
denying that we’re in the woods. Eun! run! 


OFF FOR MT. JIM 


143 


That’s why he shook hands with ye. Ding his 
young pelt! Git him. Fetch him hack, or I’ll 
larrup ye.” 

Long before he had finished Bub was flying 
like a deer down the rough way, ever watching 
for the movement of the bushes and underbrush 
ahead and below him. A dry sob clutched his 
throat as he ran on and remembered how he 
had disdained Stanley’s silent farewell. That 
the youth would ever use such heroic means to 
make good his fault had not entered Bub’s 
imagination. Eminently practical himself he 
was not prepared to understand an emotional 
nature. 

Stanley did not know he was pursued until 
Bub came close upon him in a diminutive 
clearing. ‘^Hold on, Stan. Come back,” 
gasped Bub. 

‘‘Go back yourself. I’ll be along soon,” re- 
plied Stanley, lowering his eyes. 

“You’ll come now,” cried Bub, springing 
forward and clutching his arm. 

It was in vain Stanley sought to shake him 
otf. “Let me go. Bub. Let me go,” he 
gritted. “I know what I’m doing. Go back.” 

“Sure, we’re both going back,” panted Bub, 
increasing the pressure of his grasp. “It’s no 
use, Stan; you were the stronger in camp, be- 


144 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISEES 


cause you were in the right. But now I can 
handle a dozen like you. Come on, you proud 
child.’’ And he yanked with renewed energy. 

‘‘Hold him till I git there,” called Abner’s 
voice! “Oughter he ashamed to make a old 
man hurry.” 

The last was a crafty appeal, for Stanley im- 
mediately ceased struggling and went limp. 
“I’ll go hack, Bub,” he said. 

“Your word is good as a million feet of old 
growth pine, my son,” panted Bub, gladly re- 
linquishing his hold. 

Abner stopped running when he saw the two 
walking towards him. When they joined him 
he was gravely studying the geological forma- 
tion of the outcropping ledge. 

‘ ‘ See that spruce cling to them , rocks, ’ ’ he 
admired, as if nothing had happened. “Ye 
wouldn’t s’pose there ’d be room for a tooth 
pick to git a hold there, would ye? I s’pose 
the birds scatter most of the seeds of things 
that grow and it’s a case of git along and make 
the best of the world ye find yerself in, eh?” 

Stanley and Bub, arm and arm, proceeded 
slowly back to the camp, paying no attention 
to the old man’s prattle, while he talked in- 
cessantly, endeavoring to restore harmony o£^ 
thought. ; 


OFF FOR MT. JIM 


145 


‘‘Here’s the fly agaric,” he babbled. “It’s 
one of the two poisonous specimens of mush- 
rooms found in Maine. Take it in July and 
August when the fly is cutting up something 
disagreeable and put it in water and it’ll kill 
’em off. Ye’ll notice the stem is white and a 
foot tall, with a creamy yaller cap on top. 
And the cap is spattered with little scales. 
They say a Czar of Russia once was killed by 
eating these.” 

Still Stanley and Bub sat side by side, look- 
ing at their feet and apparently not hearing 
him. 

Coughing loudly to arouse interest he con- 
tinued, “And here is the only other poisonous 
specimen. I don’t know the foreign name, but 
we call it the ‘ Death Cup. ’ Pure satiny white. 
Ain’t it a beauty? There’s no cure for the 
man who eats it.” 

The two youths might have been figures of 
marble, so motionless did they remain. 

“Ahem!” sounded Abner desperately. 
“Have a few of these snow berries. They 
have a taste of wintergreen and are s ’posed 
to be a little extry.” 

Receiving no recognition Abner hurled the 
berries from him and threw his hat on the 
ground. “If I’ve got to be in the woods with 


146 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CKUISEES 


a pack of dummies I might as well be alone,’’ 
he cried. 

With one impulse the youths burst into 
laughter and as quickly rose and shook the old 
man warmly by the hand. 

“Now if ye’ll kindly cut out this gossiping 
we’ll go to the foot of old Jim and camp for 
the night,” Abner growled, once the sunshine 
returned. 


CHAPTEE NINE 


BIG NICK PAYS HIS COMPLIMENTS 

The camp was pitched that night at the foot 
of Mt. Jim, the leanto being put up as before. 
When Stanley was informed that Kennebago 
lake was eighteen hundred feet above sea level 
and the ponds now about them were more 
than two thousand feet he began to understand 
why the nights were cold and a fire was neces- 
sary. 

Abner’s preliminary preparations for cruis- 
ing the east cant of the mountain, or the Dead 
river watershed, puzzled while interesting 
Stanley. With the early morning sun the old 
man produced somewhere from his big knap- 
sack a pair of powerful field glasses and spent 
some minutes in studying the dark heights 
above him. 

Fascinated, yet diffident, Stanley stood at his 
elbow, his lips repeatedly framing unspoken 
questions. 

At last Abner lowered his glasses and de- 
manded, ‘‘Wal, why don’t ye do it?” 

‘‘Do what?” stammered Stanley. 

147 


148 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


^‘Ask some fool questions,” replied Abner, 
his eyes reflecting his good humor. 

‘‘I will,” said Stanley. ^‘What are you 
looking for, bears?” 

‘‘Not being out for bears I’m not looking fer 
’em,” replied Abner. “But I’ll add that bear 
hunters often use glasses when they want one 
of the varmints. The first to do it was laughed 
at by the old hunters, but soon the veterans 
found it was a great saving of time to sweep 
the ridges of a mountain with a good glass be- 
fore climbing up its sides in search of bruin. 
But I was trying to pick out the ridge we will 
follow. I guess I’ve got it now.” 

Bub already had prepared the breakfast and 
after this was eaten he packed up a parcel of 
food and strapped his blankets. 

“Shall we stay all night on the mountain?” 
inquired Stanley. 

“We’ll go prepared to,” said Abner. “It’ll 
be easier than coming back here. I sha’n’t 
put in much time on this cant, just waiting for 
Charlie to overtake us. Now if we’re ready 
we’ll start.” And picking up his rifle he led 
the way towards the mountain. 

To Stanley he seemed to proceed with no 
purpose, winding in and out, turning first to 
the left and then to the right. But had the 


NICK PAYS HIS COMPLIMENTS 149 


youth been stationed in one of the seventy-foot 
spruces now beginning to line their course he 
would have observed that the woodsman 
always turned hack towards a certain point 
and that his detours were made to avoid em- 
barrassing obstacles, such as ledges and wind- 
falls. 

Abner paused and pointed to one of the lat- 
ter and remarked, ‘‘ThaCs the trap that 
catches the green hunter. See how the wind 
some time has torn through here, laying the 
trees flat like nine pins. The swath is a clean 
cut one, ye ’ll notice, and the boughs and trunks 
make a pretty high fence. When ye try to 
climb over it ye’ll find it mighty rough going. 
Then comes the green hunter and makes the 
attempt. His rifle he drags behind him, a limb 
catches the trigger. Bang! and he’s shot and 
sinks down between the trunks and boughs and 
a searching party may crawl over him, or pass 
within ten feet of him, and never suspect where 
his body lies. He’s simply marked as dis- 
appearing.” 

On reaching the mountain proper Stanley 
turned to look down the course they had 
ascended thus far. To his surprise he could 
not observe any particular ascent. There was 
nothing to show they had climbed a foot, and 


150 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


yet lie was muscle-sore from ever plunging up- 
ward. 

‘‘We are just about to start in,’’ dryly in- 
formed Abner, catching and reading the 
youth’s surprised expression. “That’s why 
it’s easy for a man new to the woods to git 
lost. Every time he turns around he finds 
the scenery has shifted. When ye start out in 
the woods always take notice of yer general 
direction, and first look behind ye and mark the 
hills and mountains. Of course ye should 
carry a map such as the government survey 
turns out. Then, if the country is new to ye, 
ye should occasionally climb a tree and look 
back as well as ahead. Each time ye do it the 
back trails seem changed. A humped back 
mountain becomes round and the next time it 
may look square, according to yer angle. But 
it’s always yer mountain if ye don’t let it git 
away from ye. See that sharp pointed feller 
over there? It’s about six miles. Could ye 
make it to-day if there wasn’t any unusual ob- 
stacles in the way?” 

“Certainly,” replied Stanley. “I would 
only have to keep this mountain at my back and 
my eyes fixed on the one in front.” 

Abner chuckled. ‘ ‘ The chances are ye would 
wind up on Bound mountain. For after ye’d 


NICK PAYS HIS COMPLIMENTS 151 


gone a half a mile the mountain behind ye, or 
this one would look entirely different and over 
its shoulder ye’d see another mountain and 
then when ye’d face to the front ye’d find some- 
one had sneaked in more mountains, and if ye 
didn’t pay attention to the sun and got to turn- 
ing round ye’d soon find a dozen mountains to 
choose from— and ye’d always choose the 
wrong one.” 

‘‘But not if you had one of the maps you 
spoke of,” reminded Stanley, smiling confi- 
dently. 

“The map is good as far as it goes,” warned 
Abner, “but it’s drawn on a big scale. Say ye 
had one of the Rangeleys and started from 
Umbagog, intending to skirt Moose mountain 
and strike Upper Dam. Then, say ye veered 
off to the northwest a few miles and got off the 
map. Ye wouldn’t know where ye was. Ye 
might blunder ’round a couple of days trying 
to git back onto the map. Now, give me the 
hatchet, Bub.” 

Bub, who had been an amused listener to this 
dialogue, passed over the small tool and Stan- 
ley was interested to note that Abner was mak- 
ing a back-blaze as they ascended a ridge. 

After the veteran had chipped some half a 
dozen trees in passing the youth could not re- 


152 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


strain himself from inquiring, we follow 
this ridge to the top?’’ 

was waiting for that,” chuckled Abner, 
blazing another tree. ‘‘No, not to the top, but 
as far as we go. Now, ask again.” 

“Well, I did want to know why you do it, 
seeing how plain the way is. All you have to 
do is to keep the black growth in front of you. 
On each side it is light and one would have to 
he a blind man to leave the ridge. It would 
he like quitting the peak of a roof. Couldn’t 
you find your way up without the blaze?” 

“Land of sin,” cried Abner, “I’d hoped bet- 
ter of ye. Can’t ye see I am making a hack 
blaze? No one coming up the mountain can 
see these signs. They’re to be used when we 
come down, if we want to come this way.” 

“But if you make a blaze at the stopping 
point and find that point when you want to re- 
turn all you’ve got to do is to descend,” in- 
sisted Stanley, believing he must be right. 

Abner sighed in despair. “Ever come down 
a strange mountain covered with timber?” he 
asked. 

Stanley replied in the negative and the 
cruiser continued, “Then never try it unless 
ye’ve hack-blazed; that is, don’t try it unless 
ye ’ve got lots of time to spare and grub to eat. 


NICK PAYS HIS COMPLIMENTS 153 


For when ye start to come down ye’ve got an 
entirely different mountain. Instead of hav- 
ing it open on the sides and the black growth 
or ledges ahead, to show the slope of the ridge, 
you have it all open in front and on the sides 
and ye only know ye are going down. And 
ye’d prob’ly find yerself on the other side of 
the mountain when ye reached the foot. Look 
behind ye and tell me where we come from?” 

Stanley did as directed and confidently 
pointed in the wrong direction. It was difficult 
for Bub to make him believe he was mistaken. 

While Bub was climbing a tree Abner vol- 
unteered the information that the townships in 
this particular range were designated by let- 
ters or figures or names. ‘^This is Jim, town 
3, Kange 1,” he said. “Hi, Bub, what do ye 
see?” 

“There’s an old burn down to the northeast, 
just a sea of grey birch and poplar.” 

“That’s right,” mused Abner, studying the 
map. “Come down and we’ll see if we can’t 
start in here.” 

In what seemed to Stanley to be an exceed- 
ingly short space of time Bub gave a whoop 
and Abner in joining him, explained over his 
shoulder, “He’s found the monument.” 

This boundary marking Stanley learned was 


154 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEKS 


a cedar post, surrounded by small rocks, while 
in a thirty foot circle the trees had been blazed. 

‘‘The section line runs north and we should 
find a cedar post every one-fourth mile,’’ said 
Bub, as Abner plunged into the tangle. “Each 
post is blazed, of course and it is easy work 
making the trip around the second, outside the 
work of walking. ’ ’ 

“It’s easy work when the line is marked as 
it was run,” grumbled Abner. “But if the 
posts have been shifted, or the monuments 
destroyed ye sometimes find yerself in court 
with a law-suit going ag’in ye.” 

But no such drawback was encountered on 
this cant and after a weary tramp Abner said 
he was prepared to “make stands.” 

“Make stands,” muttered Stanley, casting 
his eyes about. “Where are your tools? And 
what would you do with the stands after you ’ve 
made them?” 

“You’re the only one of your kind, Stan,” 
screamed Bub, dropping on a lichen-covered 
rock the better to indulge in mirth. 

“But that’s what he said,” remonstrated 
Stanley, gazing after Abner, who was striding 
away with long methodical steps. 

“Let’s follow him and see how his carpenter 
work progresses,” snickered Bub, rising. 


NICK PAYS HIS COMPLIMENTS 155 


Stanley, still puzzled, willingly fell in behind 
Bub and soon came up with Abner, who stood 
with head uplifted and slowly revolving on his 
heel. 

He gave no sign of seeing the youths, but 
muttering to himself started away at a hurried 
pace, only to slow down to the long mechanical 
stride. Then again did he look over their 
heads and moving his lips begin to slowly turn 
about as he had before. 

‘‘Bub,” whispered Stanley,” this is becom- 
ing serious. Is he crazy, or is he looking for 
timber to make into stands?” 

Bub’s eyes were watery and he placed a 
finger on his lips to impose silence. Abner 
shot one frowning glance at the boy’s mischiev- 
ous face and shaking his head and grumbling 
led on into the forest. For some half a dozen 
times he went through his peculiar movements 
and each time did Stanley find his curiosity in- 
creasing as well as his fears. 

Finally Abner returned to the starting point 
and peeling a piece of bark from a birch began 
figuring rapidly. 

Finishing he raised his head and pursed his 
lips in satisfaction. “It will average five 
thousand to a stand right here. The first fifty 
trees will figger that easy,” he informed. 


156 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEKS 


^‘Down below in the big stuff it will go better. 
It’s safe to say there’s six million in the sec- 
tion. ’ ’ 

‘‘Will you reckon in all the six-inch stuff!” 
asked Bub, casting a critical eye about. 

“We’ll have to, but on the other side we’ll 
take nothing under ten or eleven inches.” 

“All of which is Greek to me,” broke in 
Stanley. “I know you mean you’ll take every- 
thing down to a six-inch diameter here, but 
why here and not on the west cant ! ’ ’ 

“That’s the most intelligent question ye’ve 
asked in an hour,” encouraged Abner. “We’ll 
take it down to six inches here because it isn’t 
firmly rooted and in case of fire it’s poorly pro- 
tected. Take it on the other cant, that’ll go 
down Kennebago stream, and a fire wouldn’t 
have so much of a chance. Then again, the 
timber over there is in good ground and is 
firmly rooted. Over here we’ll snake out 
everything that will go into pulp. In thirty 
years from now the west cant will be good 
cutting again; this won’t be. Shows the dif- 
ference between careful and wasteful lumber- 
ing.” 

“And how about the next section!” eagerly 
inquired Bub. 

“It won’t go more’n three million if it does 


NICK PAYS HIS COMPLIMENTS 157 


that/’ regretted Abner. say that, and I 

haven’t made a single stand there yet. I won’t 
tackle it now, but when I do it’ll take a day or 
two more’n this did and it’ll run under three 
million. We’ll find a lot of ledge and a sheer 
drop into a bog.” 

Stanley pressed his lips firmly, as he screwed 
up his courage and then said, ‘‘Mr. Whitten, 
are you now ready to tell me about these 
stands?” 

Bub exploded and Abner even was forced to 
admire, “I’ll say this fer ye, ye’re like a bull 
pup when it comes to hanging on. I was won- 
dering if I’d sidetracked ye. Wal, when I 
paced off some seventy-five feet in a straight 
line and stopped and swung my eye ’round in 
a circle, the same having the distance paced as 
the radius, I was counting the sizeable trees in 
that circle. I was making a stand, I was 
gitting an idea how the timber ran. I took a 
sparsely growing lot and then a thick growth. 
Sometimes, if it runs even, five or six stands 
will tell the story. But if I had time I’d make 
five times that many on this piece, it being un- 
even. Of course you divided the total estimate 
by the number of stands, remember yer acre- 
age and there ye have yer section. I’ve seen 
men that could estimate a section down to a 


158 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CKUISERS 


foot of timber — that is, almost.” And Abner 
chnckled softly over Stanley’s wonderment. 

^‘He’s trying to have some fun with you,” 
whispered Bub. 

^H’m glad of it,” smiled Stanley. ‘‘I’m 
sure I’ve bothered him enough.” 

“That is all past now,” warmly declared 
Bub. “You’re breaking in fine. The bear and 
the fire told rather against you, but it might 
have happened to any fellow. I’m positive 
that for the rest of the jaunt you’ll be more 
help than you are bother.” 

“Thank you,” murmured Stanley, a bit 
downcast. “But I didn’t know I had been so 
much of a bother outside of one or two mis- 
takes. I’ve certainly kept up with you and 
you’ve lost no time on account of me.” 

Bub eyed him doubtfully; then frankly said, 
“I guess you can stand the truth, Stan. If we 
hadn’t been holding back for Noisy Charlie 
you’d been a brake on us. Why, my son, if 
Abner and I were in a hurry to get anywhere 
how long do you suppose you could keep up 
with us ? Abner is past middle age by quite a 
lot, but he can walk a moose to death. You’ve 
picked up weight and hardened your muscles; 
on the loading gang you probably could give 
me a tight rub. But when it comes to cruising 


NICK PAYS HIS COMPLIMENTS 159 


youVe simply got to learn it, my son. And 
we’d leave you so far behind you’d think you 
started out alone. Fortunately we are not in 
a hurry.” 

‘‘Is it possible, Bub?” cried Stanley, his 
eyes wide open. 

“It is,” solemnly assured Bub. “When we 
start off just watch how Abner seems to take 
it easy but still gets over the ground, favoring 
himself at every step and never wasting a step. 
Don’t watch me, watch him. I’m more waste- 
ful of my strength. Don’t you know that you 
often have to trot a few steps to get up with 
us?” 

“Yes, that is so,” slowly admitted Stanley. 
“I’d not thought of it before, but I remember 
now you two were always just a bit ahead. 
I’ll watch Abner and profit by it.” 

The object of the last remark now called 
them to join him, announcing it was time to re- 
turn. “We’ll go back to camp.” Then to 
Stanley, “It’ll give ye a chance to pick up our 
back trail and see how easy it is to go down 
the mountain the way ye come up.” 

Stanley smiled good naturedly and cheer- 
fully replied, “No, Mr. Whitten, it will allow 
me a chance to learn something that is best 
learned by experience.” 


160 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 


‘^Stop that mistering me,” grumbled Abner, 
yet much pleased with Stanley’s frank admis- 
sion. ‘‘Mebbe we can teacb ye something after 
all. Seems if be was improving. Bub.” 

‘‘He picks up every minute,” heartily cried 
Bub, glad to give bis friend a boost. “Now 
for the homeward trail.” 

Stanley happened to be the first to find the 
end of the blaze and as be gazed down the 
slope be was amazed. It did not seem possible 
that the white spots on the trees could indicate 
the path they made in ascending. Where was 
the ridge they bad so easily traversed? Gone. 
Aside from the blazed trail there was nothing 
to indicate where they should descend. What 
seemed to be a ridge led off at different places 
and split up into other ridges, any of which 
might be the right one so far as Stanley could 
determine. It was all open before them; in 
coming up they had had the black growth to 
aim at. 

“It beats me,” he cried, rubbing his head 
in perplexity. 

“Turn ’round and look back,” suggested 
Abner. 

He did so. “Why, it’s our ridge; the way is 
perfectly plain,” he cried. And he wheeled 
quickly as if expecting to catch the ledge as 


NICK PAYS HIS COMPLIMENTS 161 


obviously extending downward. Again it bad 
vanished. 

‘Mt is so plain to ascend that you are not 
blazing the lower side of the trees,’’ be re- 
marked, on noticing Abner’s batcbet tbrust in 
bis belt. 

‘^That’s it,’^ confirmed Abner. ‘^Wben we 
git to tbe bottom I’ll leave a mark to show me 
wbat ridge to take.” 

“If you don’t cruise tbe next section you 
can’t cut it this fall,” said Stanley. 

“Time enough to cut it in tbe next few 
years,” replied Abner. “If it wan’t fer fires 
and windfalls I’d let this go over several years. 
As it is we ’ve got to begin gitting it out. If it 
wan’t that important I’d not bother with it on 
this trip.” 

“It has only taken a day,” reminded Stan- 
ley. 

“But I ain’t made my estimates on bow 
much equipment we’ll need, or bow many 
bosses and men we’ll need; or bow much can 
be cut without crowding tbe Kennebec mills too 
bard. A cruiser has to keep all those things 
in mind. What tbe boss wants to know first 
is. How big a camp is necessary!” 

“This is tbe end of tbe trail, and here is 
tbe ledge I stood on when you told me to 


162 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISEES 


look across country,” proudly announced Stan- 
ley. 

As Abner paused beside him, gazing out over 
the spruce and sprinkle of birch, Bub alarmed 
them by crying, ‘‘See, Abner! Look! The 
smoke ! ’ ’ 

“Our camp fire,” said Stanley, not catching 
the import of Bub’s excitement. 

Abner whipped out his glasses and gazed 
earnestly for a minute. 

“You’re overlooking,” cried Bub, throwing 
forward his rifle. “Look right down below us. 
See that movement in the bushes? It’s Big 
Nick following our trail.” 

Almost as he finished there came a whip-like 
report down below the ledge and Bub’s hair 
was fanned by the passing of a bullet. 

“Shoot! shoot!” yelled Abner, as a figure 
of a man, bowed over as it made away, met 
their eyes. With one accord Bub and the 
cruiser threw up their rifles and pulled the 
trigger. But no cartridge exploded. Fran- 
tically working the levers the two tried again. 

“Not a shot in either gun,” foamed Abner. 

“Great Scott!” faltered Stanley. “I forgot 
to load them after cleaning them.” 

Abner had no time for words. Throwing 
aside his rifle he sprang forward. 


NICK PAYS HIS COMPLIMENTS 163 


going to set a back fire,” cried Bub. 
‘‘Nick has started bis at tbe edge of the 
swamp, intending to burn up the mountain, not 
only destroying our timber but our lives. Git 
busy over by that boulder and start a blaze. 
For your life donT let it eat up the mountain.” 

It was now near sun-down and the wind for- 
tunately had died out. From the swamp the 
frightened chorus of animal voices began to be 
heard, while rabbits, squirrels and several 
lynx dashed into view, the hunting instinct in 
the cats and the fear in the others all being 
lost in the greater fear of that terrible thing— 
fire. 

As Stanley struck his match a noble buck 
swiftly passed near him, trying to circle the 
mountain and find water. 

Thus the three men worked, trampling and 
beating out the tongues that sought to creep 
upward; and meanwhile the yellow cloud in 
front grew taller and was often punctuated 
with pillars of red. 

“Look out for the ends!” roared Abner, as 
their efforts finally resulted in a racing streak 
of opposing flames that promised to rescue 
them from their pen. 

This advice was timely. If the back fire was 
allowed to creep about the base of the moun- 


164 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISERS 


tain it would eat upward and end in raging at 
their backs. 

Fortunately for them the swamp land in 
front was crescent in shape, its horns reach- 
ing almost to the ledges. The back fire 
quickly reached the half-breed’s conflagration 
and died down and the ends of the fiery men- 
ace were quickly subdued. 

‘‘Boys,” Abner panted; “ye’ve had a 
mighty narrer escape. If it comes nat’ral to 
ye to say prayers at night, ye’d better throw 
in a few thanks fer to-day. I’m going to fer 
one. But by jing! I’d had that Nick if I’d 
had a bullet. The sight was just between his 
shoulders.” 

“Would you have killed him?” cried Stanley 
in a horrified voice. 

“Would I have killed him?” roared Abner. 
Then speaking very daintily, “0 no. I’d write 
a letter to the city and ask them to send up a 
policeman to arrest him for burning me up.” 
Then exploding again, “Why, younker, do ye 
s’pose there’s a man in the woods but what 
would shoot him down like a mad wolf if he 
caught him trying to burn up timber, let alone 
trying to burn up men?” 

“Well, he failed and I’m glad you didn’t 
kill him,” said Stanley. 



Thus the three worked, trampling and beating 

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NICK PAYS HIS COMPLIMENTS 165 


‘‘So am I,’’ grinned Bub through his mask 
of ashes and smoke. “It will give him another 
chance to build fires and shoot me.’^ 

“Let us hope he’ll be defeated without any 
of us killing him,” said Stanley. “Of course, 
if it came to choosing between him and either 
of you I’d shoot him myself.” 

“Ye’ll do mighty little shooting if ye keep 
the guns unloaded,” reminded Abner. 

“Well, if we ain’t in a pickle,” half-sobbed 
Bub, glancing quickly and fearfully about. 

“What d’ye mean? Speak out!” demanded 
Abner, shaking him by the collar. 

“Don’t you see ! Nick has been to our camp. 
Of course he stole everything he could lay his 
hands to, including our ammunition. We 
haven’t a single shot to defend ourselves with. 
He can pick us off one at a time and run no 
chance of being hurt. He knows we haven’t 
any bullets, by our not shooting him.” 

Crack! again sounded the whip-like report, 
and Abner’s hat leaped from his head. 

Crack! sounded the half-breed’s rifle for the 
third time and Stanley felt something caress 
his hair with a whining noise. 


CHAPTER TEN 


THE PURSUIT 

Pulling liis young companions from the 
danger zone on the ledge Abner led the way to 
the northeast, taking great care to keep under 
cover. 

‘‘It’s no use scouting for ammunition at the 
camp,” he said. “For if that devil didn’t take 
all the cartridges they’ve been destroyed by the 
tire. Lucky we took our blankets and some 
grub, else we’d sleep pretty cold to-night.” 

“Where are we aiming for!” asked Bub, 
his good-natured face now pale with fear as he 
remembered Wilson’s warning at the mills — 
that if Big Nick ever caught him in the woods, 
where every man was a law unto himself, he 
would even all scores. 

“I want to fetch up Hood Mountain,” said 
Abner. “The fire warden will have ammuni- 
tion and once we git that we’ll turn the tables 
on Mister Nick. But be careful to keep 
covered. And you,” to Stanley, “do as I do 
and bend low. If that varmint sees a bush 
move he’ll plug away at it.” 


166 


THE PURSUIT 


167 


‘‘Will he follow usU’ whispered Stanley, to 
whom such cold-blooded behavior seemed im- 
possible even in Big Nick. 

“Ain’t he tried to kill each of us so far?” 
returned Abner, talking between his teeth. 

“He’ll chase us as long as there is light to 
follow our trail,” panted Bub. “I wish we 
could strike some ledge where we’d leave no 
trail.” 

“We can’t take to a ledge till we git a lead 
on him, ’ ’ said Abner. 

“It is hard work for me to believe he is so 
bloodthirsty,” declared Stanley, straightening 
to relieve his cramped muscles. As if to 
assure him to the contrary a bullet whistled 
close to his side. 

“Keep down and sprint!” commanded 
Abner, his eyes flaming in helpless anger. 
“That butcher will chase us till we strike the 
warden’s. Don’t ye understand his life may 
be at stake as well as ourn? He intended to 
have the fire burn us up together with the tim- 
ber. We didn’t camp up there as he expected 
when he found we’d taken our blankets and 
food. We came back before he got things go- 
ing nicely and discovered him. Then he knew 
that once we got clear of the woods and told 
how he set a fire there wouldn’t be a hand in 


168 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEKS 


northern Maine but what would be against him, 
except as ye allow fer Nace and his gang, 
what^s urging him on in his deviltry. He’d got 
to stop us testifying agin him; else someone 
up here would shoot him on sight, or he’d be 
taken to the settlement and given a long term 
of years. He must kill us or always keep in 
hiding. And he knows the Great Northern 
Lumber and Paper company has a long arm 
and will spend no end of money to trail him 
even to Alberta. It’s our lives or his life or 
freedom.” 

As he flung this chilling information over 
his stooped shoulder he was rapidly taking a 
zig-zag course away from the mountain so that 
he might have more room for his fearful game 
of hide and seek. More than once as he softly 
sped along he cast a wistful gaze at the west- 
ern horizon and prayed for night. 

Thoroughly alarmed the two youths hung at 
his heels, darting along like so many shadows. 
And each knew that behind them, coming 
hardly less swiftly, was the bowed form of the 
half-breed hunter, only now he was hunting 
men. Far ahead, bathed in shifting shadows 
at its base, illumined by the setting sun at its 
top, rose Hood mountain. This was Abner’s 
objective point, but the three knew it could not 


THE PURSUIT 


169 


be made that night, and each feared that their 
pursuer would anticipate their purpose and 
either overtake them or head them off. Again, 
he could strike his assassin’s blow from a 
distance. All he would need to complete his 
murderous purpose was a fleeting glimpse of 
them as they were forced to cross a clearing. 
It was to lessen his deadly range of view that 
Abner sought to take advantage of every 
natural cover and repeatedly warned his 
young companions to bend low in running. 

Twilight now began to veil the forest with 
thin shadows and Abner sighed in half relief 
as he noted the gathering obscurity. They 
were moving noiselessly now and at a much 
slower pace. Occasionally some wild thing of 
the wood sounded a faint alarm as it scuttled 
away from the silent passerby, but beyond this 
and the natural calls of the evening woods, 
peace and quiet brooded over the little drama. 

The hermit thrush sweetly began a plaintive 
recital, oblivious of the straining forms glid- 
ing by her little home, but Stanley this time 
had no room in his thoughts for admiration or 
reverie. 

‘‘Ding them birds!” hoarsely complained 
Abner as some member of the feathered family 
took fright at the incautious tread of Stanley 


170 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISEES 

and blundered away, leaving a trail of tell-tale 
sounds. 

Somewhere in the rear rang out the clear re- 
port of the half -breed’s rifle as he caught the 
direction of the sound and fired on chance. 

“Two can play at that game,” choked Bub, 
bending as he ran and picking up a rock. Say- 
ing this he paused only long enough to hurl the 
same far otf to the right, where its crashing 
through a clump of trees deceived the half- 
breed into firing a shot in that direction. 

“Ye can’t fool him twice that way,” in- 
formed Abner. “He knew the second he 
pulled the trigger that he’d been fooled. Now 
he’ll sprint a little to git nearer and end it.” 

The last three words caused cold shivers to 
race up and down Stanley’s spine. He recalled 
Bub’s words, to the effect that they would find 
it exciting in the woods, and he regretted his 
boastful assertion that no situation could be 
too intense for him. The job with the loading 
gang appealed to him now as being exceedingly 
attractive and even the persecution of Gilvey 
was softened down to a mild annoyance. How 
secure had been the boarding-house, how 
kindly the daily associations at the mill. 

“Bub” he groaned, “I’m scared about to 
death.” 


THE PUESUIT 171 

scareder than yon are/’ confessed Bub, 
with a painful catch in his voice. 

‘‘Stop chattering and save yer wind fer 
running,” commanded Abner, suddenly turn- 
ing into some spruce and darting away at right 
angles. 

For several minutes the three made good 
time, as the spruce was a portion of a mixed 
growth, one of those isolated islands of trees 
that had never known the blow of an axe. 
Despite the semi-darkness the fugitives could 
proceed at full speed, the aisles stretching 
roomy and clear before them. It had one 
drawback, however ; it led towards the 
northern shoulder of Mt. Jim, and Abner did 
not care to be penned up against the moun- 
tain. Accordingly he soon turned again into 
the more tangled growth, where if the path was 
rougher and the pace slower it still allowed of 
progress in the right direction. If it had been 
any but Big Nick the veteran cruiser would 
have lost him long before this. But Nick, like 
Noisy Charlie, was not to be deceived by the 
ordinary deceptions of a woodsman and 
hounded his prey most skillfully. 

“Can’t we stop and hide somewhere?’^ 
panted Stanley, his heart drumming painfully 
against his ribs. 


172 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEKS 


^‘Not yet/’ replied Abner’s low voice. ‘‘We 
must take every advantage of the darkness. 
Even Old Nick, let alone his child in the rear, 
can’t f oiler us once it gits black. Thank the 
Lawd the moon won’t come up till about two 
o’clock in the morning and being a new one 
won’t give much light.” 

A lynx screamed at Stanley’s right and with 
a smothered cry he leaped violently and with 
much noise from his course. Almost instantly 
the quietude of the forest was shattered by the 
menacing crack of the rifle. 

“Do that once or twice more and we’ll stop 
running forever,” warned Abner, with a sob 
in his voice. “I heard that piece of lead.” 

“We’ve lost all the ground we’d gained,” 
reproached Bub in a whimpering tone. ‘ ‘ He ’ll 
just cut right across and save all the twisting 
and turning we’ve made.” 

“I was startled,” muttered Stanley, pressing 
a hand to his aching side. 

“No matter what happens, ye’ve only got 
Nick to fear,” warned Abner. 

“Let’s stop and hide and pounce upon him 
as he passes,” desperately suggested Stanley. 

Bub exclaimed impatiently, “Do you suppose 
he’d pass? He’d stalk us as he would a deer 
and shoot us down from a distance. When we 


THE PUKSUIT 173 

hide it must be where he won’t think of pass- 
ing.” 

‘^Now move slowly and quietly for yer 
lives,” cautioned Abner in a whisper. ^‘Take 
hold of Bub’s hand so ye won’t stumble, 
Keddy, and lift yer feet clear of the ground.’^ 

With this warning he began leading the way 
towards the west, moving with painful deliber- 
ation. Stanley, keyed up to the highest ten- 
sion, suddenly found he had eyes in his feet 
and no dead limb, or stone, was disturbed by 
him as he crept along close to Bub. 

‘‘He’s making for the ledges,” murmured 
Bub. 

It was still early evening, and, although the 
outlines of the surrounding mountains were 
plainly visible against the sky, darkness now 
completely smothered the lower stretches of 
woods and the trio had no fear of detection in 
walking upright. As Bub had surmised Abner 
was making for the heaped up boulders that 
marked the beginning of the mountain. Know- 
ing that it would be impossible to proceed 
much farther without a breathing spell he se- 
lected this rough environment as affording the 
best hiding place and the most secure retreat 
if they should be discovered. 

Now lichen covered rocks warned them they 


174 THE YOUNG TIMBEK-CKUISERS 

had reached the foundations of the gloomy 
heights above, and moving more by instinct 
than by any of his senses Abner twisted and 
turned among the ever growing boulders until 
he was brought up by a towering ledge. Skirt- 
ing along the base of this he suddenly halted 
and breathed a deep sigh of relief. 

‘‘IVe found what I expected, a small cave,’’ 
he whispered. ^‘Now if there ain’t any of 
Stanley’s bears inside we’ll take a little rest. 
Both of ye stand in the opening, ’cause I’ve got 
to strike a light, if only for a second. And it 
won’t do to let Nick see a glimmer.” 

Crowding close behind him to mask the 
twinkling point of flame the hoys waited 
anxiously. Stanley firmly expected to hear a 
roar and be run down by an infuriated bear. 
Since his experience with the cubs he had asso- 
ciated all holes in rocks with gleaming eyes and 
infuriated black forms. 

However, he was now destined to be grate- 
fully disappointed, for immediately after the 
tiny scratching sound the match was extin- 
guished and Abner invited, ‘^Come in. He 
couldn’t git us in here in a million years. 
The passage turns almost at right angles and 
there’s just enough room for comfort.” 

^^Then we’ve beaten him,” joyously ex- 


THE PURSUIT 


175 


claimed Stanley, crowding forward and throw- 
ing himself on the rocky floor and indulging in 
the luxury of stretching out at full length. 

‘‘Not so loud and fast,” growled Abner. 
“He can’t git us in here, but if he knows we’re 
here we can’t git out. It’s like being cornered 
in a checker game, when ye have the double 
corner and t’other feller has a king and ye keep 
moving back and forth. Only, it’s worse, 
’cause we’ve got to git out.” 

“But why can’t we stay here till he gets 
tired, or believes we have escaped?” protested 
Stanley. 

“Water,” briefly replied Abner. 

“It’s only a matter of hours when you’d face 
all the Nicks in the woods for the sake of 
getting a drink,” supplemented Bub, gloomily. 

“I was hoping we could remain,” lamented 
Stanley. 

“We must dig out as soon as the moon 
rises. If Nick is as cute as I give credit fer 
being he’ll suspect some such trick and in- 
stead of trying to find us in the dark he’ll push 
right ahead to the foot of Hood Mountain and 
as soon as it begins to git light will beat back, 
trying to head us otf.” 

“Then we’ve let him get between us and our 
only place of refuge, ’ ’ muttered Stanley. 


176 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEKS 


‘‘WeVe had to step aside and let him git 
between and ns and the fire warden’s, if that’s 
what ye mean,” mumbled Abner. 

“I never expected to run into anything like 
this,” declared Stanley. 

‘‘My son, you mean you’ve found it exciting 
enough,” soberly suggested Bub. 

“Why! it’s ridiculous,” complained Stanley. 
“It’s as bad as the old days of Indian warfare. 
We’ll be scalped the next thing we know.” 

“It wouldn’t pay to bother with my head 
covering,” sourly returned Abner. “But 
scalping, or no scalping, I’m going to eat. 
Lawd! what fools we was we didn’t take along 
more grub.” 

Bub unrolled the provisions and by the 
sense of touch alone enumerated, “Bread, 
bacon and coffee. We have no water to make 
coffee with and if we had we would not dare 
build a fire. I haven’t reached the point yet 
where I care for uncooked bacon. That brings 
us down to bread. What would you like for 
lunch. Mister Whitten?” 

“Ye just stop that funning,” growled Abner. 
“To think of being chased and shot to pieces 
and not be allowed to eat.” 

“I’m waiting to take your order. Mister 
Whitten, ’ ’ politely informed Bub. 


THE PURSUIT 


177 


‘‘Quit, or I’ll larrup ye,” angrily com- 
manded Abner, to whom the need of food now 
outweighed all dangers. “Gimme a piece of 
bread.” 

“And you. Mister Malcolm?” persisted Bub. 

Despite his fears Stanley was forced to smile 
in a ghastly fashion and reached out a grop- 
ing hand for his portion of the rations. 

“We not only will be shot and die of thirst, 
but we’ll starve to death,” whispered Stanley 
to Bub between mouthfuls of the dry crust. 

“No woodsman will starve in the woods,” re- 
turned Bub in an undertone. “That is, if he 
is allowed to forage for food. He might starve 
in the city if he didn’t have any money, but 
there ’s always stutf to eat and keep alive on in 
the woods.” 

“But what if he can’t kill any game or catch 
any fish?” moodily inquired Stanley. 

‘ ‘ Then he can live on rock lichens, or reindeer 
lichens,” murmured Bub. “There’s lots of 
nourishment in them. One of the Arctic ex- 
plorers saved his life by eating reindeer 
lichens; Franklin, I believe. You’ll find them 
everywhere in the woods. Rock lichens are on 
rocks of course. Funny how nature starts in 
the minute there’s a rock heap and tries to 
cover it up with lichens. Then after it’s 


178 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


covered up the mosses creep in and then after 
they’ve decayed enough you get a little soil and 
a bird drops a seed and up comes a tree. Then 
there’s roots and berries in their season, and, 
0 lots of things a fellow can keep a-going on. 
As for water, a woodsman will find it almost 
anywhere and if he can’t he’ll use the Indian 
cucumber. I was lost a week upon the Mus- 
quacook once without any provisions, but I 
wagged along and didn’t lose any flesh to 
speak of. On the last day, I remember, I 
knocked over a booby — ’ ’ 

‘‘Can’t ye find something besides partridge 
to gossip about!” groaned Abner. “I vum! to 
hear ye makes my mouth water so I fergit I’m 
thirsty^ If I was back at the settlement I’d 
order a hundred dollars’ wurth of ham’n 
eggs.” 

“I’d have a reg’lar hotel dinner,” enthu- 
siastically declared Bub. “I’d start in with 
soup and fish and then have roast beef, rare, 
with green corn on the cob and all the fixings, 
same’s I had in Portland once, and at the end 
I’d call for pie and — ” 

“Quit it, ye young torment! Quit it, or I’ll 
lambast ye. I may be shot by Big Nick, but I 
vum! I won’t submit to being tortured by any 
younker.” 


THE PUKSUIT 


179 


‘‘What was the hardest time you ever had, 
Abner mischievously asked Bub, nudging 
Stanley. 

“It was when I had to make a soup out of 
a crow,’’ gloomily replied Abner. “Crows 
ain’t poison, but they was never intended fer 
polite fodder. The first day it tasted good, 
’cause I was starving. But on the fourth day 
I begin to git weary of it. And on the fifth 
— Say, ye young scallywag, didn’t I tell ye up 
on the Allagash never to ask fer that yam 
agin?” 

“These rocks are getting hard,” remarked 
Stanley, now somewhat recovered from his re- 
cent exertions. 

“Might be a good plan if ye’d spread down 
yer blankets,” sarcastically observed Abner. 
“I did.” 

Stanley blushed under the cover of the dark- 
ness and silently unrolled his blankets. It had 
not occurred to him to soften his couch by their 
means. 

“If you had a nice fat sandwich I wonder if 
you’d have to be told to eat it,” snickered Bub. 

“I say, quit talking about food,” sternly 
commanded Abner. “I remember once I went 
to a circus in Bangor and the hotel people 
charged me seventy-five cents for a meal and I 


180 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


ate nothing bnt pertaters, and pertaters was 
then selling fer fifty cents a bushel. What 
d^ye think of that fer a swindle? I went to the 
feller behind the desk and told him I wanted 
enough pertaters to make up a bushePn a half, 
seeing as how I^d paid seventy-five cents, and 
he only laffed at me. No circuses or hotels git 
any more of my money.’’ 

Bub chuckled at Abner’s inability to abandon 
the very subject that tortured him to think of. 
Stanley, less mercurial than the other, remained 
silent, his thoughts running along the dramatic 
events of the last few hours. As silence fell on 
the trio each began to read the story told by 
the night sounds. To Stanley the chorus was 
more beautiful than ever, while the wilder and 
more unwholesome notes failed to incite the old 
fear. He passed over the shriek of the great 
horned owl with a frown, as he would try to 
ignore a discord in an otherwise sweet melody. 

To Abner and Bub the night songs and 
voices were of practical worth. The lynx had 
missed his prey and was screaming in rage. 
The porcupine, fearless beneath his panoply of 
spears, was one of the few wood folks who did 
not bother to practice secrecy, and the sprawl- 
ing step and crackling limbs emanated from his 
nocturnal prowlings and did not evidence the 


THE PURSUIT 


181 


presence of a bear. Tbe veteran and Bub in- 
terpreted each sound with mechanical ease. 
Then Abner, half rising, touched Bub lightly. 

Bub returned the signal and held his breath. 

‘‘What do you hear?’’ murmured Stanley in 
Abner’s ear, his heart renewing its thumping 
as he sensed the others’ rigid apprehension. 

“It’s what we don’t hear,” murmured 
Abner. “Be absolutely silent for yer life. 
Something has stopped the birds’ songs.” 

Outside, the moon was beginning to scatter 
a faint glow over the scene. With a warning 
pressure for them to remain quiet Abner si- 
lently made his way to the opening. Then 
reaching back he touched Bub’s leg. The youth 
as noiselessly joined him. In front a huge rock 
cut the sky-line. On top of this was the vague 
figure of a man. 


CHAPTER ELEVEN 


STANLEY MEETS THE ENEMY 

For several moments the man and the youths 
remained motionless, their eyes focused on the 
grim silhouette. They had no doubt but what 
it was Big Nick, and a sinister phase of his 
pose was the manner in which he held his rifle, 
as if prepared to shoot at a second’s notice. 

Gently edging backwards Abner indicated 
for the youths to follow him. Then he softly 
whispered, “In some way he is led to believe 
we turned in this direction. I had expected 
he’d make for the mountain and try to cut us 
otf in the morning.” 

“What are we to do?” murmured Bub, all of 
his good humor deserting him as he pictured 
the silent form on the rock. 

“We’ll lie low for a hit, hut we must git out 
of here before the moon crawls any higher,’^ 
replied Abner. 

“Does he know we are near here?” asked 
Stanley, expecting every moment to have the 
half-breed creep into the narrow passage. 

“He’s puzzled,” said Abner. “He doesn’t 


189 


STANLEY MEETS THE ENEMY 183 


think we are where we can see him, else he 
wouldn’t stand up there on that rock. Yet he 
believes he is on our trail.” 

Stanley’s teeth chattered at the boldness of 
his thought, and he said, “Let’s sneak out and 
get near enough to jump him. I’m tired 
of being chased as if I were a poor wild 
thing.” 

“That’s it; let’s take the lead. He won’t he 
looking for it and we’ll never get a chance at 
him in the day time,” urged Bub, whose fears 
were driving him desperate. 

“Younkers, I opine ye’ve got the right of it. 
It’s now or never,” agreed Abner, beginning 
to steal back to the opening. 

But the first stealthy glimpse revealed the 
half-breed had disappeared. He might be 
within a few feet of the hiding place, but he 
was no longer on the rock. 

“These ledges will he losing some of their 
darkness in a little while,” reminded Bub, to 
whom the faintly illumined rock piles ap- 
peared to he bathed in brightest light. 

“And Big Nick can see like a cat in the 
night,” regretted Abner. “Yas, I guess we’d 
better be moving. For if he really believes 
we’re hid up ’round here he’ll stick till he 
starves us out. If we can git to the woods we 


184 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEKS 

can worm our way quite a distance before day- 
light. ’ ’ 

“Shall I lead the way?” asked Bub. 

“No, sirree! Let yer Uncle Abner take the 
lead,” replied the veteran, slowly thrusting 
his head from the opening. 

Fortunately the ledge at this point was over- 
hanging and no rays of moonlight had suc- 
ceeded as yet in penetrating to the mouth of 
the cave. But a few feet from the ledge was 
an open space of some fifty feet which must be 
crossed before the ink-like depths of the woods 
could be gained. The average man would 
have been able to see nothing in the gloom, but 
Abner knew Big Nick’s keen eyes would ferret 
them out in a twinkling of the eye should they 
move carelessly across this danger belt. 

His instructions were few and emphatic. 
He was to lead off with Stanley second and 
Bub drawing up the rear. Each was to move 
in keeping with Abner’s cautious advance and 
at the slightest signal from him each was to 
remain motionless. 

The fifty feet seemed to require a century 
to traverse in Stanley’s estimation. Once 
when about half way of the distance Abner 
touched Stanley’s head and came to a stop. 
Stanley immediately repeated the signal to 


STANLEY MEETS THE ENEMY 185 


Bub, and the three might have been so many 
pieces of rock, scattered over the ledge. Stan- 
ley felt an almost irresistible impulse to yell 
out and make one try for the woods. A stick 
snapped on their immediate left and with pain- 
ful carefulness Stanley turned his head. He 
was positive he could detect the glitter of the 
half-breed’s eyes and was as equally sure that 
they had been discovered. Still Abner made 
no move forward and Stanley next feared that 
the thumping of his heart would be heard by the 
enemy and betray their position. The glitter- 
ing eyes, in the meanwhile, ascended a tree and 
the youth knew it was but some creature seeking 
a refuge like themselves, or else hunting victims 
like Big Nick. 

A second stick snapped, ever so lightly and 
the three knew it must be Nick’s moccasined 
step. It evidenced one thing to Abner; the 
half-breed was abandoning some of his caution, 
evidently believing his prey was not in that 
vicinity. Then something like a shadow 
floated from the spruce, became flxed to the 
face of the ledge, remained immovable, then 
detached itself and stole forward. 

With a shiver of relief Abner advanced a 
notch. If they had waited but a few moments 
they would have been penned up in the cave. 


186 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 


Then the old man began to move more swiftly. 
He remembered their Innch. Should the half- 
breed enter their late hiding place he would be 
sure to discover the bread crumbs. It was abso- 
lutely necessary for the three to reach the 
shelter of the woods before their pursuer 
emerged from the cave. 

The youths quickly caught the old man’s 
thought because of his haste to gain cover. 
Stanley figured it out only in a partial manner, 
but Bub was quick to weigh the situation. He 
pushed Stanley gently to indicate the need of 
speed, and then tapped him warningly, fearing 
the inexperience of his friend would divulge 
their presence. But for once Stanley made no 
blunders and followed Abner’s snake-like move- 
ments with the utmost care. Now the leader 
was half beneath the boughs of a spruce when 
Bub pressed Stanley’s leg as if to halt him. 
The signal was instantly telegraphed to Abner 
and the old man promptly abided by Bub’s 
judgment and became motionless. Bub had 
heard a pebble rattle behind him and knew it 
announced the approach of Nick. 

Stanley’s heart pounded fiercely and his 
lungs seemed to be filled with fire. He sought 
to hold his breath and then was compelled to 
exhale. He was positive he had betrayed his 


STANLEY MEETS THE ENEMY 187 


friends to the common foe and hngged closer 
into the rock and awaited the fatal shot. 

But nothing happened, and at last Bub gave 
the signal to advance, and with infinite care 
the last few feet were left behind and the 
three friends found themselves crouching in 
Stygian darkness. 

‘‘He knows we were here hut a short time 
ago,’’ Abner whispered between the two bowed 
heads. “He knows we couldn’t have moved 
far without making a noise. Eemember, a 
single sound will mean a shot. Now follow 
me.” 

With the same deliberation Abner felt his 
way through the forest. Never once did his 
foot descend so that even Stanley behind him 
could hear it. Once their way was blocked by 
a mass of alders, and Abner retraced his steps 
towards the foe until both Stanley and Bub 
began to feel an icy tickling about the roots of 
the hair. 

Fully a half an hour passed before Abner 
came to a halt and drew them close to him. “I 
think I heard a rustle off to the left. It might 
have been some bird, or animal, but I believe it 
is Nick. If so, he is moving parallel to us and 
will weave back and forth in an etfort to cover 
considerable territory. I’d strike directly 


188 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CKUISEES 


away from him if not for drawing away from 
Hood mountain. When morning breaks, as it 
will very soon, I want to he within reach of it. 
On the other hand, if we go straight ahead we 
stand a chance of his catching up with us.” 

“I say go ahead,” whispered Bub. 

^‘My vote is the same,” added Stanley. 

‘‘All right,” murmured Abner. “Ye have 
a say in it as much as I do. As there ain’t 
any best way it’s toss up a cent which is the 
best thing to do.” 

“If worst comes to worst we could start a 
back fire and burn him out,” suggested Stan- 
ley. 

“The very thing,” urged Bub, eagerly. 
“Once we put a wall of flame and smoke be- 
tween us he will be so busy saving his own 
bacon that he won’t think of chasing us. 
Couldn’t it be done, Abner?” 

“It might, if he didn’t shoot while we was 
starting it,” admitted Abner; “but these ain’t 
my trees to burn.” 

“Surely you’d burn them to save our lives,” 
softly exclaimed Stanley. 

“I’d burn every one in Maine to save the 
lives of ye two,” assured Abner. “But I 
wouldn’t burn ’em to save my own skin. I 
ain’t got no right to.” 


STANLEY MEETS THE ENEMY 189 


‘‘Then you won’t burn them to save mine,” 
firmly declared Stanley. 

“Nor mine,” cheerfully added Bub. 

“I’d do it in a second to save ye, only I fear 
it wouldn’t work,” said Abner. “But let’s 
leave it be till we see where we’re at. See the 
East is beginning to show a streak of grey.” 

“I can’t see it,” murmured Stanley. 

“I can,” said Bub. “Soon you’ll hear 
some birds sound the first morning note. 
Then the whole chorus will break out, and 
then up comes the sun and along comes old 
Nick.” 

The unexpected finale caused a flicker of a 
smile on Stanley’s set lips and he nodded ap- 
provingly at Bub’s undismayed spirit. 

Very shortly the eastern horizon took on 
patches of grey in places, but so gradually 
that Stanley could not trace the change at 
first. Then without any warning a shaft of 
yellow shot through the somber mass and 
quickly became old gold, as if some giant smith 
were heating it red hot. Then a fan of glori- 
ous radiance flickered to the zenith and the sun 
was about to say “good morning.” 

Taking advantage of the first streak of light 
Abner wheeled slowly about to get his bear- 
ings. He frowned at discovering he had wan- 


190 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISEES 


dered outside of Ms intended line of approach 
and must beat back would he reach the war- 
den’s abode before nightfall. 

‘‘Why not let us separate, each making for 
the top of the mountain,” suggested Stanley, 
lowering Ms eyes. 

“What is the matter?” asked Abner sus- 
piciously. 

“Why do you stand on one foot?” demanded 
Bub, giving him a twirl. 

“By jing! he’s sprained his ankle and is try- 
ing to git us to go and quit him,” savagely 
announced Abner. 

Stanley tried to defend himself, saying he 
knew he could make the mountain as quickly 
as either of the others, and concluded by de- 
claring his ankle hurt him only a little. Abner 
apparently heard nothing that he said, but, 
forcing him to sit, quickly removed the high 
boot and examined the sore member. To his 
great joy he found it was only a minor strain 
and ripping a strip from his blanket soon had 
it bandaged in workman-like manner. 

“There! that’ll last till we reach the war- 
den’s if ye favor it,” pronounced Abner. 
“And don’t suggest any more of these self- 
sacrificing games agin. I expect ye two to 
stick by me and ye must expect us two to stand 


STANLEY MEETS THE ENEMY 191 


by ye; else there ain’t no truth in the woods 
and no good in a woodsman.” 

“Lean on my shoulder as much as you can,” 
invited Bub. “Now let’s put the best foot 
forward.” 

This time Abner made the youths lead the 
way while he brought up the rear. He knew 
the danger was behind them and he trusted to 
Bub to pick a quiet trail now that the morning 
light was filtering through the trees to help 
them. And as Bub had said the full galaxy of 
forest singers now tuned up and broke into one 
marvelous harmony in which, unlike the even- 
ing festival, naught but love notes were heard. 

But even with the dawning light the fugi- 
tives’ progress continued slow, Stanley’s ankle 
acting as a brake on their flight. Each knew 
that the half-breed was taking two steps to 
their one and must soon be abreast if not in 
advance of them. Once he reached high 
ground and scrutinized the low lands with his 
keen gaze he could not fail to detect their 
approach, while to intercept them would be an 
easy task. 

The fatigue of the previous day and night 
was beginning to tell also on Abner’s hardy 
frame. The average man of his years would 
think only of taking his ease and it was a won- 


192 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


derful accomplishment in the city bred boy’s 
estimation that the veteran could so long defy 
exhaustion and set the pace for the elastic Bub. 
Incidentally, it was another lesson for him to 
ponder over — ^what nature can and will do for 
those who do not desert her. 

As he became dulled to the danger ever 
dogging their heels Stanley found himself 
admiring the autumnal etfect presented by the 
reddish glow on scattered maples, now half in 
bud. Isolated patches of hard wood trees 
were ever giving an atmosphere of October to 
the landscape, only to be contradicted at the 
next step by the delicate light green of birch 
and elm. 

‘^Hi! go ’round the knoll; not up over it,” 
warned Abner in a low voice, as Bub was 
mechanically breasting a slight rise. 

Bub blushed at the rebuke, for like Stanley 
his wits had been deadened by weariness and 
familiarity with the situation. 

don’t think he’s behind us,” he feebly 
defended, but obeying the old man’s order. 

‘‘Wait a minute and we’ll try and find out,’^ 
muttered Abner, creeping to the top of the 
knoll and cautiously gaining a coign of van- 
tage. After a few moments he softly invited, 
“Crawl up ’side of me, but keep low. Now 


STANLEY MEETS THE ENEMY 193 


watch that small opening back there and look 
sharp.” 

The youths did as directed, the small area 
being dimly discernible. With straining eyes 
they looked, until Stanley could imagine all 
sorts of forms and figures crossing the little 
glade. Then all three were cast in a rigid 
mould as a dark blotch swiftly crept from cover 
to cover. 

“Come,” said Abner briefly. “I was hop- 
ing he was farther to the west. In looking 
back I picked out that opening as the one spot 
where he might show up if he was directly be- 
hind us.” 

Gritting his teeth Stanley sought to forget 
his lame ankle and resolutely accommodated 
his steps to the now rapid advance of his com- 
panions. Hood mountain seemed as far away 
as ever and the youth knew that under the 
most favorable circumstances its summit 
could not be conquered till afternoon. 

“Let’s have a drink,” said Abner, leading 
the way to a bubbling stream. 

Several precious minutes were spent in this 
refreshment but each felt new strength as he 
rose to continue the journey. 

Then Stanley forgot about his ankle, his 
whole system seemed benumbed and he stalked 


194 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


along with the mechanical gait of an automa- 
ton. He gazed neither to the right or left, 
nor did he hear the matutinal chorus about 
him. It seemed as if he was walking in a 
dream, the forms of his two companions being 
vague and unreal. Nor did he sense any 
fear. 

Abner was quick to observe his condition and 
nudged Bub slyly. So long as the youth 
could walk, so long would they lead him along, 
but the veteran cruiser had seen men walk like 
this before, after being lost in the woods, and 
he knew what the result must be. 

It came suddenly. Stanley dropped in his 
tracks and while not unconscious was thor- 
oughly indifferent to the pleadings of his 
friends. 

For nearly an hour the three remained in 
the covert, waiting for him to emerge from his 
lethargy. Finally he seemed to sense that he 
was holding the others back, and, shaking him- 
self, advised, ‘‘You two go on ahead. It’s the 
best thing for all of us. I’m done up and must 
rest. If you leave me you can make the war- 
den’s in double quick time, procure some am- 
munition and come back for me. Nick couldn’t 
find me in a year. “I’ll just remain quiet and 
rest.” 


STANLEY MEETS THE ENEMY 195 


can’t leave yon,” whimpered Bub. 

‘Ht’s the only way yon can help me,” stontly 
insisted Stanley. 

Abner rnbbed his chin thonghtfnlly and was 
silent for a few moments. Then to Bnb ’s snr- 
prise and Stanley’s joy he decided, ‘Ht’s the 
only thing to do. Nick will pass him by. 
We’ll blaze onr trail with a little noise so he’ll 
follow ns on the trot; then we’ll race him for 
the monntain. And once I git my hand on a 
cartridge — Wal ! ’ ’ 

^^Do yon want my knife!” asked Bnb, hnn- 
gry to do something for Stanley. 

“No; cnt me a stont cndgel,” replied Stan- 
ley. 

“I’ll fix ye a daisy,” said Abner, assailing 
an oak bongh. This he deftly trimmed into a 
formidable clnb and then shaking Stanley’s 
hand tnrned abrnptly away. 

“I hate like sin to do it,” sobbed Bnb. 
“Why can’t I stay with yon!” 

“No! no! If yon wonld help, go,” nrged 
Stanley. “If Nick canght a glimpse of Abner 
making it alone he wonld know we two were 
back here. If he sees the two he will take it 
for granted I am with yon, or near yon. Be- 
lieve me, Bnb, I rnn less danger than yon do.” 

A low whistle from Abner warned Bnb he 


196 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


must be going, and silently wringing his 
friend by the hand he darted silently away. 

Stanley’s resting place was an ideal one for 
concealment. A circle of stunted growth com- 
pletely masked his bed of moss, and one might 
pass within two feet of him and not suspect 
his presence. With a sigh of relief he turned 
his back towards the rising sun and closed his 
eyes. He could not tell what aroused him; it 
could not have been a noise, he dreamily told 
himself, and yet some influence had jolted him 
from a dreamless slumber. As his wits 
cleared he was conscious of a feeling of fear. 
He remained motionless and sought to inter- 
pret it. He had read of people becoming un- 
easy when stared at by unseen eyes. It was 
like that, and yet different. He did not feel 
as if someone were watching him, but he did 
sense an immediate danger. His inner self had 
warned him to mount guard against some evil. 

It seemed as it must be at his very side and 
it was with much quaking and apprehension 
that he slowly turned his head and swept the 
circuit of his small retreat. He was alone. 

He sighed softly in relief and then began to 
believe that the danger must be just on the 
other side of the bushes. He even picked out 
the point from which the evil influence seemed 


STANLEY MEETS THE ENEMY 197 


to radiate, and with the utmost caution moved 
his head in that direction. The boughs effec- 
tually screened the outside world, except as his 
head, resting on the moss, allowed his feverish 
eyes to peer out beneath them. Within a few 
inches of his nose were a pair of moose-hide 
moccasins, hut not like those worn by Noisy 
Charlie. As one fascinated he stared at the 
immovable footgear. Then he closed his eyes, 
fearing the impact of his gaze would arouse 
the owner of the feet into a realization that one 
of his intended victims was near. 

There was something so sinister in the abso- 
lute quiet of the figure outside, something so 
animal-like in its suspicious rigidity, that Stan- 
ley knew the half-breed sensed his presence hut 
did not know where to look for him. Some- 
thing certainly had stayed his pursuit of Abner 
and Bub. Some sixth sense, perhaps pos- 
sessed by aboriginal people as well as animals, 
was telling him he was not alone in that little 
space. And Stanley held his breath till it 
seemed his lungs would burst. 

Possiby his deep exhalation might have re- 
vealed him to his enemy if the half-breed had 
not changed his position just as the pent-up 
air was released. Then the youth opened his 
eyes and gazed again. As Nick shifted his 


198 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


position Stanley could now see up to his waist, 
his view including the butt of the rifle resting 
under the right arm, as the barrel lay in the 
left hand, ready for instant use. 

Edging hack Stanley noiselessly rose to a 
sitting posture and grasped his club. As des- 
peration gave him a false courage he found 
himself desiring to meet the climax and have 
it over with. He felt as if he must give a loud 
cry and spring forth and grapple with the 
bronzed figure. He mechanically recalled how 
in his childhood, when playing hide and seek, 
his nerves got the best of him in his hiding 
place and he would rush into the arms of the 
seeker before his retreat had been suspected. 
He felt the same impulse now and bit his lip 
in holding himself back. 

At last as the tensity of waiting grew upon 
him he gradually rose to his feet, forced to 
stand only half erect that his head might 
escape the roof of his bower. 

A furious anger began to fill his heart, in- 
cited by fear. He was like a lynx cornered, 
desperate enough to face any odds, and his fin- 
gers grew benumbed as they strained in clutch- 
ing the cudgel. 

Although his movements had made no noise 
that he could sense Nick whirled about quickly, 


STANLEY MEETS THE ENEMY 199 


his eyes flaming as they swept each bush and 
tree. Something was warning the half-breed 
that he, too, was in danger, and he raised the 
rifle to shoot. 

With a wild desire to know the worst Stan- 
ley gently picked a pencil from his pocket and 
taking advantage of an opening in his roof 
flipped it upward and outward. In striking it 
made a slight sound, and as quick as a flash the 
half-breed fired in that direction. 

With a maddened roar Stanley leaped from 
his hiding place and before the half-breed could 
shift his weapon the heavy club descended and 
knocked him staggering into the bushes. 
Then, yelling loud in his frenzy Stanley 
dashed away in the direction taken by his com- 
panions. It was not until he had covered a 
half a mile did he realize he had lost the oppor- 
tunity of disarming his foe. 


CHAPTEE TWELVE 


THE KESCTJE 

Unhampebed by Stanley the veteran and Bub 
exercised all their knowledge of woodcraft and 
held a bee line for the mountain* The very 
fact that they had been compelled to abandon 
their companion led them in a degree to cast 
caution aside and hasten on at top speed to 
obtain ammunition so that they might return 
and rescue him. Occasionally Bub ascended a 
tree with the agility of a squirrel and verified 
their course. In the black growth this spying 
out of the land was absolutely necessary, as 
Abner was intent on striking the mountain at 
a particular ridge. 

After hours of nerve racking work the two 
came to the first stage of their ascent. 

‘^Go on ahead,’’ panted Abner. “Ye’re 
fresher ’n I be. Git the cartridges and come 
back and meet me. I’ll be loafing along here 
somewhere. Leave yer rifle with me — and 
scoot!” 

Tightening his belt Bub flashed up the ridge, 
leaping along as if fresh at the task. Abner 


200 


THE RESCUE 201 

groaned aloud in sympathy with himself and 
dropped on a bed of moss at one side. 

In an amazing short space of time, consider- 
ing the distance covered, Bub bounded into 
view, waving his hands in exultation. 

‘‘Gim’me ’em!’’ snapped Abner, clawing 
hungrily for the cartridges. Then as he 
rapidly slipped them into the magazine of both 
guns he threw back his shoulders and became 
a new man. The hunted look vanished from 
his eyes and his mouth straightened in grim 
determination. 

‘‘Now,” he hoarsely announced, slouching 
his hat forward, “we’ll pay a call to Mister 
Nick and we’ll present a card for every one he 
sends to us. Come on, my son.” 

“If he has hurt Stanley, I’ll kill him,” 
savagely declared Bub. 

“Quit that!” sharply directed Abner. 
“ ’Course he ain’t hurt him. He ain’t even 
found him. Why! if he has hurt him I’d f oiler 
him to Alaska. Now, double quick, or we 
won’t git to him before night.” 

“We won’t be able to return to the warden’s 
to-night after finding Stanley,” said Bub, 
breaking into a trot and moving as if it were 
his first journey in days. 

“We don’t want to,” replied Abner. “Now 


202 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CKUISEKS 


we ’re loaded we can go where we will and stay 
as long as we will. But it’s mighty lucky the 
warden’s ammunition fits our guns. Else we’d 
had to borrer his and have only one between 
us.” 

‘‘He’s worried about Stanley and will run a 
lantern up into a tree, so’s if we want to come 
back we can hit the trail easy,” informed Bub. 

“That Reddy is a good boy,” mused Abner. 
“Most fellers would have took on and gone 
crazy at the idea of being left alone out there. 
But he was the first one to suggest it. He may 
be green, but he’s got lots of grit.” 

“I like him,” said Bub simply. 

The next few miles were covered in silence, 
the steady dog-trot being interrupted only as 
Bub paused to climb a tree. On these aerial 
excursions he not only made sure of their 
course but he also keenly examined the coun- 
try ahead in an effort to locate the half-breed. 
In this quest he was much aided by Abner’s 
field glasses. 

The last tree he climbed caused Abner to wax 
impatient. “Going to stay up there all 
night ? ” he sharply inquired. 

“Wait! wait!” murmured Bub, his voice 
trembling with excitement. “Great Scott! 
Here they come!” 


THE EESCUE 


203 


‘‘Who d’ye mean by ‘they’?” hoarsely cried 
Abner, throwing forward his rifle and fingering 
the lever nervously. 

“It’s Stanley, and he’s running like mad!” 
shouted Bub, sliding down the trunk with reck- 
less haste. “And a quarter of a mile behind 
him is Big Nick, his face covered with some- 
thing like blood.” 

“Are they aiming this way!” choked Abner, 
tearing down a slope. 

“Yes,” replied Bub, “but we’d best sepa- 
rate so as to bring them between us. I’ll 
branch off to the right.” Suiting his action 
to the word Bub turned at right angles and 
put several rods between himself and Abner 
before continuing his onward flight. 

Then both were horrified to hear the half- 
breed’s rifle explode thrice with venomous 
sharpness. 

“The dirty hound is shooting at him,” 
wailed Abner, straining to increase his 
already swift gait. “0 if he should hit him 
when we are so near. Shoot, Bub! Shoot! 
Let him have it the first sight ye git of him, 
and aim to kill!” yelled Abner, his voice sink- 
ing into a snarling sound as he plunged onward 
and found no elevation from which he could 
command a view of the race. 


204 THE YOUNG TIMBEK-CRUISEKS 


His moutli relaxed as Bub’s rifle rang out, 
for he knew the youth had caught a glimpse of 
the enemy. Then he came to a hillock, spruce 
covered, and for the first time was able to take 
in the situation at the front. 

Stanley was running through a fringe of 
hard wood growth, while the half-breed peril- 
ously near was dodging from side to side to get 
a line on him. Stanley seemed to appreciate 
the other’s purpose, for he repeatedly leaped 
aside from a straight course, seeking to put as 
many trees between him and Nick as possible. 
The half-breed apparently had paid no atten- 
tion to Bub ’s shot, or else in his lust to kill had 
not heard it. 

Dodge into the spruce!” yelled Abner, for- 
getting that the fugitive could not be expected 
to hear. 

But if he could not reach Stanley with his 
warning he could convey a message to Big 
Nick. Taking deliberate aim at the bobbing 
figure he pulled the trigger. Almost at that 
moment the half-breed half stumbled and this 
mishap doubtless saved his life. As it was the 
bullet grazed his head, and with the quickness 
of a fox he dropped from view. Stanley raced 
on, now grasping the situation. 

A puff of smoke told of Nick’s hiding place as 


THE EESCUE 


205 


he made one last attempt to reap his venge- 
ance. Instantly Bub’s rifle spit out a round 
of shots, coming so rapidly that the first ex- 
plosion seemed to blend with the last. At the 
same moment Abner exhausted his magazine 
with similar rapidity, and there was no further 
response from the common target. 

Only pausing to reload Abner and Bub ad- 
vanced to intercept Stanley. When the latter 
broke through the last barrier and beheld them, 
a smile spread over his distorted features and 
he crumpled up over a fallen tree trunk. 

‘‘Loosen his shirt and fan him,” commanded 
Abner. “I’ll go on and cruise for the Injun. 
Stay here till I come back. ’ ’ 

For several moments Stanley remained with 
his eyes closed, breathing spasmodically. 
Then he gasped, “Much obliged, old man. I 
was about played out. ’ ’ 

“Don’t talk. Just breathe,” directed Bub, 
his eyes moist with pity. “When Abner gets 
back you can tell us all about it. But till then 
take it easy. And, my son, I think you’ll 
agree that we’ve had several miles of real old 
fashioned excitement.” 

Stanley nodded his head and tried to grin, 
but could not muster quite enough energy. 
Neither spoke until nearly an hour had passed. 


206 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISERS 


when a step was heard in the immediate front. 

‘‘Who is itr’ cried Bub, bending forward, 
his rifle half raised. 

“Abner! Don’t shoot,” cried the old man. 

“All right, Mister Whitten. Advance and 
give the countersign,” humorously replied 
Bub. 

“Where’s our friend!” murmured Stanley. 

“Ye ought not to have any friends,” com- 
plained Abner. “What in sin possessed ye to 
keep in that hard wood growth fer! Didn’t 
ye know it was giving Nick a fine bead on ye, 
with the leaves only half out! Why didn’t ye 
dig into the spruce! I vum! If I’d know’d 
ye was so tarnation foolish I’d just kept on 
to the warden’s and e’t my supper. As fer 
Big Nick, I couldn’t find him.” 

Stanley rose on his elbow and silently shook 
the old man’s hand, his eyes beaming his 
thanks. 

“Ye can’t soft soap me that way,” gruffly 
informed Abner, still retaining his hand. 
“Bub knows I told him that I’d bet ye wouldn’t 
have enough sense to stay hid, but would come 
a mooning along and trying to git killed. Bub 
will remember what I said. I said ye’d be up 
to just such a fool trick and that we’d better 
camp with the warden, git our sleep and fod- 


THE KESCUE 207 

der and take our time to-morrer in coming 
back here fer the remains. Bub will — ’’ 
‘^But Bub doesn’t,” grinned that individual. 
‘‘Why! Stanley, he cleared eighteen feet at 
every jump in hiking back here to find you.” 

“Wal, we both was a-coming some,” 
grinned Abner, now openly patting Stanley’s 
hand. “But, tell us, younker, how the var- 
mint came to jump ye? If I’d thought he was 
to find ye I’d stuck along and took a chance.” 

Stanley then recited the incidents of his 
slumber and awakening and of his terror in 
finding Nick’s moccasins near his face. 

‘ ‘ Then I remembered how you threw a stone 
to one side and got him to shoot in the direc- 
tion of the sound and I did the same trick with 
my pencil. The minute he fired I let out a yell 
— and I was awfully scared I am free to admit 
— and letting out a horrible yell I dashed at 
him and struck him over the head with the club. 
It seemed a cold-blooded thing to do, but it was 
that or nothing. He went back into the bushes 
as if he’d been hit with an axe, but I didn’t 
have sense enough to try for his rifle. I think 
I must have been a bit crazy, for the next thing 
I know I was running like mad trying to stop 
screaming. I don’t know how long or how far 
I raced before realizing what was the matter. 


208 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 

Once I got control of myself I proceeded with 
more cantion. But I was about to drop when 
he fired the last time. That spurred me on. 
Then came a shot as I thought in front — ’’ 

‘‘That was mine. I saw the bushes wriggle 
and let drive to take up his attention, ’ ’ proudly 
informed Bub. 

“Well, I hardly dared hope it was either of 
you. I thought my ears must be playing 
tricks on me. Anyway, I couldn’t have gone 
many rods farther when Abner and you gave 
the grand fusillade. That spurred me up won- 
derfully.” 

“And ye had the nerve to clash with Nick 
and clout him with the club!” admired Abner, 
now holding Stanley’s trembling hand in both 
of his. “0 why should a half-breed’s skull be 
so tough, and why didn’t ye finish him! And 
to think ye dared jump him! To think ye 
had brains enough to remember the decoy 
trick and draw his fire! And to think ye 
realized it was all necessary before lamming 
him ! Red, I ’m proud of ye. ’ ^ 

“But, Mr. Whitten,” remonstrated Stanley, 
reddening beyond the tinge caused by his ex- 
ertions; “I did nothing except what I was 
forced to do. I deserve no credit. I w^ des- 
perate because I was cornered. I had to do it.” 


THE EESCUE 


209 


‘‘No, ye didnT,” denied Abner, loudly and 
shaking his head emphatically. “If ye’d been 
like most city chaps ye’d tried to steal away 
and got plunked, or ye’d remained quiet till he 
found ye. But when ye took him by surprise 
ye had a second’s advantage. And let me tell 
ye, younker, it takes a mighty smart woods- 
man to catch Big Nick a-napping. Noisy 
Charlie could do it, mebbe, but I couldn’t. Ye 
had to be as silent as a angleworm in gitting 
to yer feet, else he’d catched ye, sure. Guess 
Nick can hear a watch tick a mile.” 

“Then he’ll hear his head ring a good long 
time,” exulted Bub. “His face was covered 
with blood. You must have hit him an awful 
crack. ’ ’ 

“ Now it’s all over I feel sort of tired,” 
admitted Abner. “ Seems if I hadn’t ate 
fer a week or slept fer two. Let’s git a 
little nearer to the ridge and camp fer the 
night.” 

“I can go up to the warden’s and fetch 
down some food,” volunteered Bub. 

“No, sirree!” refused Abner. “Ye’ve made 
that trip once to-day in record breaking time. 
We’ll let grub go till to-morrer.” 

But to their great joy this proposed fasting 
was not necessary. For when they neared the 


210 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


mountain they were met by the warden, carry- 
ing two baskets of provisions. 

‘‘Bub, ye’ve met Professer Carlton, the war- 
den. Professer, this younker is Stanley Mal- 
colm, a city chap, who is trying his best to git 
killed in the woods.” 

The professor warmly shook Stanley by the 
hand, smiling quizzically at Abner’s brusque 
introduction. “I feared you would be unable 
to make my home,” he explained, “and so I’ve 
taken the liberty to bring down some food.” 

“Take all those liberties ye want to so far 
as I’m consarned, Professer,” earnestly en- 
treated Abner, tearing the coverings from the 
baskets. “Wal, by the jumping jing!” 

“Nothing wrong, I trust,” cried the profes- 
sor, alarmed at the outcry. 

“Nothing wrong,” bellowed Abner, present- 
ing a radiant face. “Why, Red! Why, Bub! 
Look here!” And he exposed the contents to 
view. “In all my dreams I never pictered 
anything better ’n a slice of salt pork and a 
crust of bread. And here, as I live, is fresh 
biscuit, real ham, pertaters cooked as I never 
believed they was cooked outside of heaven, 
and red stuff in jars — ” 

“That’s jelly,” laughed the professor, wink- 
ing at the boys. “My daughter had just fin- 


THE EESCUE 


211 


ished a baking and was able to supply the 
biscuit. She added the jelly for the invalid. 
There is some coffee and a coffee-pot. ’ ’ 

^‘Prob^ly yeVe had yer supper,’’ sounded 
Abner, eying the provisions wolfishly. 

have and can not partake with you,” said 
the professor. 

‘‘All right; I know ye won’t mind if we pitch 
in right away,” said Abner, his tone much re- 
lieved as he found the food was to be shared 
by three rather than four. 

“And here’s pickles and cheese and a pie,” 
gasped Bub, exploring the other basket. 

“And cake and a whole roast chicken,” 
added Stanley in amazement. “Why, Pro- 
fessor Carlton, you and your daughter must 
have thought there were a dozen starving men 
instead of but three, and surely you must have 
robbed yourself.” 

“Not a bit of it,” assured the professor. 
“Now I want to see you eat. One of you start 
a blaze for the coffee and I’ll fetch a pot of 
water from the spring nearby.” 

“I’ll fetch ye in a deer just as soon as I git 
my nerves settled,” declared Abner, drawing 
a hamper towards him. 

“That will be next fall when the law is off,” 
reminded the professor. 


212 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


Abner sniffed disdainfully. believe in 
game laws/’ he said, ^‘but if a deer chases me 
more’n a couple of miles in the spring, a-try- 
ing to bite me, why, I shoot in self-defense. 
And once the deer is shot there’s no reason 
why the neighbors shouldn’t have a bit of ven- 
sion.” 

‘‘I’m afraid you woodsmen are often at- 
tacked by deer,” gravely said the professor. 

“Wal, I’ll say this. The same deer never 
chased me twice, ’ ’ returned Abner. 

‘ ‘ Do you return home to-night 1 ’ ’ asked Stan- 
ley, much interested in this new acquaintance, 
who had the polished manners of a true gentle- 
man and the head of a scholar. 

“Yes; it’s a stiff, long climb, but my daugh- 
ter will be waiting,” replied the professor. 
Then reading the youth’s thoughts he sug- 
gested, “But why can’t you all make it, after 
you’ve refreshed yourselves? My daughter 
will prepare you an appetizing breakfast.” 

“I vum! I’d like to, but I’m too tired,” said 
Abner. 

“I believe she intends to have buckwheat 
cakes and maple syrup,” mused the professor. 

“What!” cried Abner, half rising. “Of 
course we’ll go. No need of loafing around 
here. I’d been up there to pay my respects 


THE EESCUE 213 

long ago if it wan’t for tliese bothersome 
younkers.’’ 

The professor and the youths smiled broadly 
at the way in which Abner changed his mind 
under the influence of promised cakes and 
syrup, but Bub with a practical eye reminded, 
‘‘Let’s not forget to send out an alarm about 
Big Nick.” 

“Yes; I’ll telephone the minute we get 
home,” promised the professor. “His setting 
the fire is a serious offense in itself ; his attempt 
at cold-blooded murder must be punished, of 
course. None of you are safe so long as he is 
at liberty.” 

“Do you expect he’ll be picked up?” asked 
Stanley. 

The professor shook his head and regretted, 
“I am sorry to say I do not believe he will be 
captured unless it is by chance ; that is, not by 
the wardens. We have to keep a close watch 
for fires. Only a few are blessed as I am with 
the company of a daughter, or with any com- 
pany at all. We are stationed far apart and 
the half-breed can range at pleasure in and 
among the mountains without being disturbed. 
Even if he were seen and pursued he could 
easily escape. I believe he will make for the 
north, where he will be less apt to meet either 


214 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


fire or game-warden. And if he does meet one 
of either the warden might hesitate to attempt 
his capture unless he caught him at a disad- 
vantage, as to try and fail would mean the 
warden’s death.” 

“That’s so,” sorrowfully agreed Abner; 
“but let me tell ye something. I’m going to 
git Big Nick before I quit these woods. Now, 
let’s eat.” 


CHAPTER THIRTEEN 

THE PROFESSOR AT HOME 

At noon next day Stanley opened Ms eyes 
to new surroundings. It was several minutes 
before be could piece together the strenuous 
events of the preceding two days, or realize 
just where he was. He knew he was in a soft 
bed and aching in every muscle. From the 
open window he could see nothing except a 
silver speckled sky and a brown top of a moun- 
tain on the horizon. The latter was Mt. Jim, 
although he was to learn that later. 

Slowly the closing incidents of his flight 
through the woods, his encounter with Big Nick 
and his meeting with Professor Carlton fil- 
tered into place in his recollections, but he 
could not recall the evening trip up the heights 
to the warden’s home. 

On dressing and investigating his surround- 
ings he found he was alone in a large log house. 
The summit wind had free passage through 
the open door and windows. The living room 
was commodious and given a cosy atmosphere 
by the big fireplace at one end. On a table 

215 


216 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEKS 


were a number of books, while many volumes 
were stacked against one wall. He also de- 
tected various evidences of a woman’s pres- 
ence, such as a work box and a sewing table. 
On the walls of the room the masculine note 
predominated in several trophies of hunting 
and fishing trips. Guns, canoe paddles, but- 
terfly nets, lake trout mounted, were inter- 
mingled with a few pictures. On the whole 
the place seemed a paradise after his rough 
fare in the woods. 

But the absence of his host and friends led 
him to walk painfully to the door. A glorious 
view was spread out below him. From the 
top of Hood mountain he could count many 
lakes dotting the carpet of black growth far 
below. All inequalities of surface, such as 
ledges and minor hills, were smoothed out and 
he could hardly believe that the even, un- 
broken expanse contained the tangled and 
blocked path of yesterday. Before he had 
gazed his fill the sound of voices at the other 
end of the cabin caught his ear and he hastened 
to find his friends. 

“Sleep well!” smiled Professor Carlton, 
shaking his hand. 

“Never better,” replied Stanley. “What 
time is it?” 


THE PKOFESSOE AT HOME 217 


‘‘A woodsman would look at the sun/’ tan- 
talized Bub. 

forgot,” confessed Stanley. Then he be- 
came confused in noting a sweet-faced girl 
eying him with half hidden amusement. 

Laura, this is Stanley Malcolm, a friend 
and companion of Mr. Whitten and Mr. 
Thomas,” informed the professor. 

know,” she smiled. talked with him 
last night.” 

^‘Did I talk with you last night!” gasped 
Stanley, recalling nothing of the incident. 

‘‘She should say she talked at you, but that 
you were too weary to talk or see anyone,” 
qualified the professor. 

“You were all played out when we got here,” 
explained Bub, holding himself very erect as he 
realized the professor had “mistered” him. 

“How do ye feel!” anxiously asked Abner, • 
“Fit to go on to-day!” 

“Yes,” slowly replied Stanley, but wincing 
as he moved about. 

The professor’s quick eye caught his gri- 
mace and he firmly declared, “You mustn’t 
move a step from here for a day or so. Better 
have Mr. Thomas give you a good rub with 
some liniment I have in the house. I made it 
myself and it will do you lots of good.” 


218 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CKUISERS 


Abner seemed relieved at the prospect of 
lingering, for the memories of last night’s 
supper were still fresh in his mind. But his 
tone was a bit testy as he said, ‘‘Of course if 
ye’re tuckered out we must accept Professor 
Carlton’s hospitality a bit longer. But we 
must git up to the end of the trip ahead of 
Noisy Charlie.” 

“We could start to-day, Abner, and leave 
Stanley here to pick up,” mischievously sug- 
gested Bub. “Then we could call for him 
later.” 

“No need of going to that bother,” quickly 
discouraged Abner. “Charlie won’t git along 
for a few days and we might as well take a 
rest.” 

Miss Laura shot a sharp glance at the two 
youths to show she appreciated the old man’s 
desire to enjoy her cooking further, and 
tempted, “I’ll make you something extra nice, 
Mr. Whitten. Something that the others shall 
have none of.” 

“We can stay just as well as not,” hastily 
assured Abner. “And as we’re eating ye out 
of house and home the Great Northern Land 
and Paper company will settle all the bills.” 

“There can be no question of settlement,” 
gravely said the professor. “Incidentally I 


THE PEOFESSOR AT HOME 219 


am employed by that company in addition to 
my duties as state fire-warden. My orders are 
to help and aid any who come my way, let alone 
my inclination to entertain.’’ 

Miss Laura nodded happily and explained, 
‘‘You have no idea how pleasant it is for us 
to have someone drop in — or, I should say, 
drop up — no, come up. There ! Sometimes we 
see no one for many weeks. Of course we have 
the telephone, but it isn’t like real visiting.” 

“But the extra work,” reminded Stanley. 
“It doesn’t seem right that a slip of a thing 
like you should be cooking for three strange 
men.” 

She laughed softly. “A strange man and 
two boys,” she corrected. “Besides, Mr. 
Whitten is no longer a stranger to us, we’ve 
heard so much about him.” 

“Ye git out,” bashfully protested Abner, 
yet reddening with pleasure. “Guess ye never 
heard no good of me.” 

“Mr. Whitten is fishing for compliments,” 
she quizzed. “And I’ll pay him none.” Then 
seriously, “But I’ll say that I know how he 
saved the lives of three men up north of Par- 
machena two winters ago in the midst of the 
worst blizzard of the year. It was simply noble 
the way he went out and found them, when 


220 THE YOUNG TIMBEK-CKUISEKS 


everyone had given them np for lost. You 
know, he took provisions with him and on find- 
ing them about to die and ignorant of the 
woods he built a shelter and remained with 
them until they were able to follow him to the 
settlement.” 

‘‘Quit that stuff,” commanded Abner, frown- 
ing to conceal his pleasure. 

“0 he’s done that so many times we that 
know him pay no attention to it now,” lightly 
informed Bub. 

“I’ll larrup ye, ye young — ^beg pardon, 
ma’am, but he’s a very troublous boy at 
times,” stammered Abner. 

“I’m sure he will grow up and make a good 
man,” gravely encouraged Laura, her eyes 
dancing. 

“I’m sixteen in years and a million feet tall 
in experience,” desperately blurted out Bub. 

“My! I didn’t know you were so aged,” 
laughed Laura. “Now I must remember my 
manners. Do you know, I was about to caU you 
Bub.” 

“I’m very young,” quickly broke in Stanley, 
finding her bright eyes and piquant face very 
pleasing. “So there’s no reason why you 
shouldn’t call me Stanley.” 

“I think, my daughter, our guests will be de- 


THE PROFESSOE AT HOME 221 


ciding you are very, very young,” dryly 
warned her father. 

‘‘By jing! Ye just let her ramble on nat’ral 
like,” cried Abner, now thoroughly infatuated 
with the quick-eyed miss. “Let’s have no fin- 
nified company manners up here. I’m a rough 
old curmudg’un and these two younkers give 
me a lot of bother, but we all like to meet 
nat’ral people. Now, Professor, s’pose ye give 
me a few p ’inters as to how the land lays 
north of here.” 

“Gladly. You’ll find the map is incorrect 
in several particulars, ’ ’ assented the professor. 
“Will you step inside? Laura will entertain 
our young men.” 

“The young men will entertain me,” cor- 
rected Laura, once the men had left them. 
“First, tell me all about your experiences with 
that awful man, the Indian.” 

“You tell it, Stanley,” diffidently requested 
Bub. 

“There’s not much to tell you don’t already 
know,” said Stanley. “I can only add that if 
it wasn’t for Bub here I’d never pulled 
through. I walked for miles leaning on his 
shoulder. He not only, had to pick the way 
but half carry me.” 

“That will do,” growled Bub. “Miss 


222 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISEKS 


Laura, this chap insisted on staying behind and 
then puts up a fight against Big Nick. He had 
a stick and Nick had a rifle and was ready to 
shoot. Not only that, but he tried to desert us 
and find the enemy and make them believe that 
he was alone in the woods and was — ’’ 

‘^Stop itl” cried Stanley, his face a deep 
ruddy color. ‘‘Don’t talk nonsense. If Bub 
hadn’t made the trip to the house, here, and 
got the ammunition and brought it in double 
quick to Abner, and then found me just as I 
was about to drop, why, you’d have an easier 
time cooking to-day and — ” 

“Stanley Malcolm, you can talk more fool 
things in a minute,” exploded Bub. “S’pose 
she wants to hear that stutfl” 

“She certainly does,” cried Laura. “Do 
you know, I think you both as nice as you can 
be. It makes me tingle to think of being 
chased by that man through the dark woods. 
I should have had a crying spell and fainted, 
I’m sure.” 

“No, you wouldn’t,” grinned Bub. “They 
don’t grow cowards up here on old Hood.” 

“I should say not,” enthusiastically cried 
Stanley. 

“But I didn’t ‘grow’ up here,” modified 
Laura. “I was born and brought up near 


THE PKOFESSOE AT HOME 223 


Boston. My father was a professor at Exton 
college till his health gave out. The doctors 
said only out-of-doors life would save him and 
so we came here. My mother died when I 
was very small. We have lived here for four 
years. He sent me to Boston the first two win- 
ters, hut as I grew to realize how lonely he 
must be up here I refused to leave him.” 

‘‘Of course you did,” admired Stanley. 

“But it was very pleasant,” she quickly in- 
sisted. “I was far happier than I could be in 
Boston at my aunt’s. He tutored me each day, 
so I knew I was keeping up with my class at 
the least, and in some studies I have gained 
over my classmates. One can, you know, when 
studying alone and putting much time on a 
subject. But I’m ashamed to talk books with 
two young men of your experiences.” 

“You needn’t feel ashamed as to me,” hon- 
estly assured Bub. “I know nothing in books. 
Had to educate myself, largely, and I haven’t 
astonished anyone by my progress.” 

“He has. Miss Laura,” contradicted Stan- 
ley. “He has astonished me. When I reached 
the mills and he got me work I was mean 
enough to feel superior to him in book knowl- 
edge. You can imagine my confusion — 
no, you can not ; one must make the same mis- 


224 THE YOUNG TIMBEK-CEUISEES 


take to imagine it— but I was greatly confused 
to find be could write far better than I and 
knew more about mathematics and the like. 
I will now admit, Bub, it was bard work eating 
that bumble pie you gave me when I learned 
tbe truth.” 

‘‘That is tbe way one should talk,” cried 
Laura, her eyes beaming with appreciation. 
^Hf I were a boy — I mean a young man — 
should want just such a friend as you are to 
each other.” 

‘‘Can’t a young man have girl friends?” 
mumbled Bub, casting down his eyes. 

“Can’t two young men have a girl friend — 
the same friend?” added Stanley, following 
Bub’s diffident example. 

Laura laughed delightedly and gave each a 
frank little hand. “Now, we are three 
friends,” she announced. “That means we 
must be very honest with each other. If you 
do not like my biscuits you mustn’t say you do. 
You must be sincere about everything in talk- 
ing with a friend.” 

“But I shall like your biscuits,” insisted 
Stanley. 

‘ ‘ The idea of finding fault with the only girl 
friend I’ve got,” scoffed Bub. 

“You two are hopelessly insincere, I can 


THE PROFESSOR AT HOME 225 


see,” slie sighed. ^‘But to prove I trust you 
I’m going to let you into a secret. Come with 
me.” 

Wondering, the two followed her quick steps. 
Descending a few rods to an overhanging ledge 
she produced from a natural hiding-place some 
purple tinted crystals. 

‘‘But what are they?” asked Stanley, much 
puzzled, and finding nothing of moment in her 
disclosure. 

For an answer she held up a finger on which 
was a beautiful amethyst. 

“What! amethysts!” he cried, while Bub’s 
eyes opened wide. 

She nodded her head rapidly. “Father sent 
one away to the city and had it cut and set in 
this ring. I know where there’s a mine of 
them. I found them myself. People in town, 
the ones we sent the stone to, have been very 
curious to know where we got it. Of course 
we told them nothing. I keep these out here 
for fear someone will drop in on us some day 
for the purpose of doing a bit of spying. If 
they saw any uncut gems in the house they 
would know we got them around here. Some- 
time I’ll show you the mine.” 

“I never knew such things could be found in 
Maine,” said Stanley. 


226 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEKS 


‘^Wby, this state is the richest in the Union 
in gems/’ cried Laura. “I do not believe that 
such a variety can be found anywhere as here, 
aside from the precious stones. There are 
men here who make much money mining 
amethysts, tourmalines and the like. Did you 
know many fresh water pearls are found in 
our brooks and rivers?” 

Seeing Stanley’s blank expression she con- 
tinued, ‘H’ve found a dozen in the last two 
summers. Some of them father says are worth 
fully a hundred or more dollars apiece.” 

should know those things about my own 
state,” apologized Bub, ‘‘but I’ve been so busy 
in the woods I’ve only had time to hear about 
them. ’ ’ 

“I’m going prospecting for gems this sum- 
mer if I can arrange for it,” declared Stanley, 
his eyes flashing at the thought of adventure. 

“I should be sorry if what I’ve told you 
would lead you to abandon steady and profit- 
able employment,” said Laura, putting back 
her treasures. 

“You need not feel sorry,” declared Stan- 
ley. “I shall not go in for it unless Bub can 
go with me. If he finds it’s dull in the woods 
and can get away we’ll take a short vacation 
and hunt gems. I suppose you’ll be next tell- 


THE PROFESSOR AT HOME 227 


ing me that gold is also found in Maine. 
And he smiled at the conceit of his fancy. 

Her eyes became very serious. ^‘Why, 
didn’t you know that!” she cried. “Gold has 
been washed out along Swift river up above 
and around Byron for years. Men have made 
good day wages up there right along, with an 
occasional nugget as a bonus. They say they 
can find color almost anywhere up through 
that section.” 

“Well, I never!” gasped Stanley. 

“Gold and pearls and amethysts and tourma- 
lines and — ” began Stanley, excitedly. 

“And lots of other things that you can learn 
about later,” laughingly obtruded Laura. 
“Simply remember this: Maine is one vast 
storehouse of valuable, marketable gems. 
While gold is only found in small quantities it 
has paid day wages. But a fortune can be made 
out of the gems and is being made to-day. At 
Mt. Mica, in Oxford county, the mining of tour- 
malines has been carried on as a regular busi- 
ness for years. There are other mines just as 
rich, if you can find them.” 

“And I trust you have found such a one,” 
said Bub earnestly. 

“I honestly am inclined to believe I have,” 
she whispered. 


228 THE YOUNG TIMEEE-CRUISERS 


‘H hope cried Stanley. a wonder 

to me that money doesn’t grow on trees up 
here.” 

^‘But it does,” gravely informed Laura. 

He looked at her smilingly, then became du- 
bious in his gaze as her eyes remained calm 
and serene with no trace of mischief in them. 

^‘Of course you are joking,” he faltered. 

‘‘No,” she quietly replied, shaking her head. 

‘ ‘ Miss Laura, I must believe it then, ’ ’ he con- 
tinued. “If you say dollars grow on trees I 
know they grow there.” 

“You see those spruce down below — I mean 
that bright patch of green!” And she pointed 
towards the base of the mountain. 

“I do,” he replied. “And does money grow 
in that particular orchard!” 

“You are beginning to be skeptical,” she 
accused. “I’ll tell you no more.” 

“I am not; I believe,” he cried, his tone des- 
perate. “And Bub also believes.” 

“I’d believe doughnuts grew on them if Miss 
Laura said so,” readily assured Bub. 

“Then you are both nice,” she decided, “and 
I’ll tell you. I got a hundred odd dollars from 
those spruce last winter. ’ ’ 

“Spruce gum!” exclaimed Bub, clapping his 
hands. 


THE PEOFESSOR AT HOME 229 


‘‘Yes, but you sbouldnT have told Mm just 
yet,’’ she said. 

“But spruce gum isn’t money,” protested 
Stanley. 

“But a pound of it is worth one dollar and 
sixty cents any time, and perhaps more. 
That’s for the best gum. The seam gum 
brings about half as much,” she explained. 
“I earned from five to ten dollars a day. It 
had never been gummed and I only had to 
break or cut it otf in lovely, clear pieces, large 
pieces, too. Mr. Reed, over at Byron, will take 
all you can deliver. He’s sold more gum 
than any man in the world — meaning spruce 
gum, of course. In fact, he is affectionately 
called ‘Gum’ Reed.” 

“And have you now exhausted this wonder- 
ful storehouse of yours?” asked Stanley, Ms 
eyes gleaming with a new light as he wondered 
at his new knowledge and felt a keen desire to 
increase it. 

‘ ‘ 0 no, ’ ’ she replied and shrugged her shoul- 
ders. “I am only an ignorant city girl. I 
know but little of the woods. There are many 
other lovely and valuable things to be found in 
the rocks and woods that are fascinating to 
think of.” 

“I say. Bub, think of having a spruce gum 


230 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEKS 


mine and making lots of money in the winter, ’ ' 
cried Stanley. 

‘‘But I’m tired of the woods; think of find- 
ing great big amethysts,” returned Bub, 

“And it’s time for me to think of poor Mr. 
Whitten and father waiting to find dinner on 
the table while I am gossiping with you two,” 
added Laura, quickening her steps to return to 
the house. 

“She’s a stunner!” admired Bub, after she 
had left them. 

“I never knew a girl could be so sensible,” 
declared Stanley. “But what ninnies she 
makes of us with our ignorance.” 

“That’s just it,” wailed Bub. “Here IVe 
lived in the woods all my life and am as igno- 
rant of lots of things as a clam. If course I’ve 
known about gum and have sold some. But 
I’ve wasted lots of hours in my trips when I 
might be examining a ledge for minerals, or 
opening fresh-water clams for pearls. Take a 
girl when she’s smart and there’s no getting 
ahead of her.” 

After dinner and while Abner was smoking 
his pipe in the sun and giving some instruc- 
tions to Bub, Stanley sought out Laura and 
with a bit of confusion asked, “Does your 
father intend to leave here soon?” 


THE PROFESSOR AT HOME 231 


Her lips quivered for a moment, and then 
she explained, ^‘Father has about recovered 
his health now and would like to obtain a situ- 
ation in Colorado, where he has many friends. 
The climate there would agree with him. But 
he has been out of the harness for four years 
and finds it hard work to get a place right 
away. ’ ’ 

‘‘But why donT you go out there and live till 
he gets an opening?” asked Stanley. 

Laura flushed, but frankly explained, “We 
are poor. College professors do not get ex- 
orbitant salaries in this country. When my 
father was taken ill he was forced to find em- 
ployment even while trying to regain his 
health. Fortunately he procured this work, 
which pays a living while making him a well 
man. But we have no means with which to 
board anywhere unless he has employment.” 

“I beg your pardon for asking what I did,” 
humbly apologized Stanley. “I meant all 
right, and iCs a shame that a man as good and 
wise as your father should be dependent on a 
salary for a living.” 

“He’s the wisest man in the world,” she 
murmured, clasping her hands in front of her. 
‘ ‘ The very wisest. He ought to be at the head 
of a college — a big college.” 


232 THE YOUNG TIMBEK-CRUISERS 


‘‘I wish I could help him/’ muttered Stan- 
ley. 

Instantly her mood changed and she laughed 
quietly. ‘‘At least, it’s no harm for me to 
wish it,” he remonstrated, his feelings hurt. 

“You’ll forgive me, I know,” she soothed, 
her tone quieting him at once. “I thank you 
for your kind wish. I know you would help 
him if you could.” Then gayly, “And who 
knows but what sometime you can help him?” 

“Who knows?” he repeated, as if talking to 
himself. 

She eyed him stealthily and at last frankly 
declared, “You are a queer boy.” 

“I know it — that is, I’ve been told so,” he 
replied, his thoughts still wandering. 

“You came from the city?” she prompted. 

“Yes,” he replied. “Perhaps foolishly so. 
I can see now I made some mistakes. I never 
would have believed it till I came up here and 
had a chance to look back.” 

“If your coming has taught you your errors 
it has been a good thing for you that you 
came,” she encouraged. 

“I am inclined to think it is; only, I do not 
see how I can profit by it and go back and cor- 
rect my mistakes.” And he sighed, as he 
turned to rejoin the others. 


THE PROFESSOR AT HOME 233 


‘‘You have been to school,” she said. 

“I have been to what are called the best,” he 
replied, “lam ashamed to add that I have not 
always profited by my opportunities. How- 
ever, with a new start I shall only have myself 
to blame if I fail again.” 

“Success is made up of repeated failures,” 
she reminded. 

“You are talking of honest failures,” he 
said. “But when a fellow deliberately makes 
a fool of himself, is headstrong enough not to 
admit it, blames everything on to someone else 
— why, he’s the worst sort of a failure.” 

“But if he sees his mistakes and admits it, 
why isn’t he back already to start over again?” 
she eagerly persisted, now deeply interested in 
the youth. 

“There are some things you can’t fix right,” 
he sorrowfully replied. “Sometime, when you 
feel better acquainted with me I’d like to tell 
you the whole wretched business. But I 
haven’t the heart to bother you now — ^nor 
would it he right for me to do so.” 

“It would be right for you to talk with my 
father,” she gently suggested. “He is very 
wise. I am very simple. I could sympathize 
with you, but he could help you with advice. 
When you are ready, talk with him.” ' 


234 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


think I’ll talk with both of yon,” he com- 
promised, his old smile returning. hear 
Bub calling and won’t bother you any longer.” 

“It’s a luxury to be bothered up here,” she 
called after him. 


CHAPTEE FOUETEEN 

INTO A STRANGE COUNTRY 

On the second morning Abner announced 
he must go his way, but was prevailed 
upon to wait till after dinner. Stanley’s 
sprained ankle, thanks to a poultice of beech 
leaves, was fit for walking and there was no ex- 
cuse for tarrying longer, except as the pleasure 
of the Carltons’ society might be considered 
such. 

‘‘We shall surely call here after we’ve fin- 
ished our business on Flat-Top ridge,” ear- 
nestly assured Abner, his eyes roving towards 
the kitchen, whence emanated savory odors. 
“In the meantime, I guess I’d better have a talk 
with ye about my business.” 

Withdrawing to a corner Abner produced his 
map and pointed out the east line of the dis- 
puted tract, and said, “Nace seems to have us 
up a tree. He holds that is our line, while 
we’re fighting to establish it over here to the 
west. ’ ’ 

“I know,” quietly said the professor. “I’ve 
been over all that ground. There are about 


235 


236 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISEES 


eighty acres of the best growth in the State in 
that triangle.” 

‘‘How’d ye happen to go there!” asked Ab- 
ner, mnch surprised. 

“Mr. Hatton directed me to. Don’t you re- 
member I said I was employed by your com- 
pany! When I am making my regular trips I 
do a little cruising for Hatton. Not as you do 
it, but to see if everything is going all right.” 

“Ain’t that just like Hatton,” grumbled Ab- 
ner. “He never said a word to me about ye’re 
being up there. He gives me my orders as if 
I was the first one to tackle it, and here I be 
undertaking a forlorn hope. Of course ye 
could locate none of the old boundaries!” 

“Not a sign,” firmly replied the professor. 
“Honestly, Mr. Whitten, I fear your errand is 
a hopeless one. I examined the east line very 
carefully and the cedar posts and other mark- 
ings are there, showing every sign of age. 
But along the line claimed by the company I 
could find nothing to sustain Mr. Hatton’s con- 
tention. ’ ’ 

“That may be,” said Abner doggedly; “but 
any time I find Nace mixed up in a game I 
know it’s crooked. Why, he’d rather make 
fifty cents in a swindle than to make a dollar 
honestly.” 


INTO A STRANGE COUNTRY 237 


^‘You evidently have a very poor opinion of 
him/^ laughed the professor. ‘‘Despite his 
reputation I do not see how the company can 
go into a court of law and succeed in their suit 
to hold the land.’’ 

“They’ve got to succeed,” cried Abner, 
smiting his knee. “It’s not only a question of 
more’n a hundred thousand dollars, but it’s a 
question of reputation. Never yet has the com- 
pany lost in a law-suit. President Thaxter 
has always directed that the company shall not 
begin any trouble it can’t go through with and 
win out. Because of that fighting spirit — and 
always fighting to win — operators have been 
mighty skeery of stepping on us. Every man- 
jack of ’em knows he’s got to have the right on 
his side if he would whip the company.” 

“Certainly; I appreciate that,” said the 
professor. “But if no litigation has been 
commenced how is the company embar- 
rassed?” 

“Ye mean law-suit by that litisomething, ” 
mumbled Abner. “Taking it fer granted that 
ye do I’ll tell ye this much: Hatton has gone 
otf half-cocked. He’s formally notified Nace 
that he should hold the land. Having gone 
that far and Nace having told other operators 
and made bets that he would beat us out ye can 


238 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISERS 


see the company will stand in a bad light ’less 
we win. I vum! I wish I’d know’d ahead that 
ye’d been over the ground. I guess I’d re- 
fused to undertake the job.” 

‘‘It’s too late for you to withdraw now,” re- 
minded the professor. “But it is my duty as 
an honest man to repeat that I do not believe 
you can prove anything in favor of the com- 
pany by going up there. Still you must go, of 
course.” 

“If we can prove Nace cut over that public 
lot that might be used as a club against him,” 
suggested Abner, scowling at his thick 
boots. 

“Hardly,” denied the professor. “I’ve 
studied human nature enough to know that 
Nace will never let a hundred thousand dollars 
slip through his fingers for the sake of evading 
unwholesome publicity. If he has to he’ll pay 
the value of the stumpage — I believe you said 
it would run in excess of ten thousand dollars 
— and then he will clean up his tenth of a mil- 
lion. So far as injuring his reputation is con- 
cerned he won’t care a penny, for he knows he 
has none to be injured. He simply will bribe 
some paper to explain how it was a natural 
mistake for him to get over the line; then he’ll 
give a new bell to some schoolhouse, put a pub- 


INTO A STKANGE COUNTKY 239 


lie fountain into his home city, and he’ll have 
the next election go his way as he always has 
in the past.” 

^‘Wal, wal, I’m afraid ye’re right,” admit- 
ted Abner. ‘‘He was shrewd enough to meas- 
ure all his chances before going into this. 
He’ll laugh at us. And once he wins in this 
he’ll be after the company with a sharp stick. 
Of course Hatton is in a sweat, because it may 
mean his job. President Thaxter won’t stand 
for any bungling. Ho ye think I’ll be troubled 
if I go up there?” 

“No; not so far as Nace is concerned if he 
is sure you’ll find nothing. And yes, if he’s 
left the matter to the discretion of some of his 
understrappers and Big Nick has any say. Of 
course if Nick should swear he was hired to set 
the fire by Nace or one of his agents it would 
look black for Nace, if the half-breed is 
shrewd enough to know that he may use it as 
a lever in compelling Nace’s gang to aid him 
in getting his revenge. Just how far those men 
would go I do not know. But I’d feel better if 
men instead of those two boys were going with 
you. ’ ’ 

“There’s no limit to the lengths them var- 
mints will go,” said Abner soberly. “Hasn’t 
Nick repeatedly tried to murder us? I guess 


240 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


they have it writ up in the books that we three 
sha’nT return to the mills. So far as I know 
they may have bagged Noisy Charlie on his 
way back.’’ 

The professor shook his head firmly. ‘‘I 
don’t fear that,” he said. ‘H’ve known Char- 
lie ever since I’ve been here. You can’t catch 
him napping; especially when he realizes what 
he is confronting.” 

^‘And ye say ye saw nothing, or heard noth- 
ing when ye was up there?” asked Abner, seem- 
ingly fascinated by the possible dangers of the 
trip. 

The professor paused and pursed his lips 
thoughtfully. ‘‘Well, I’ll say this: I know I 
was watched and followed. I believe it was 
by some agent of Nace’s. But I was not mo- 
lested in any way. What might have happened 
if I had discovered anything I cannot say. I 
saw no one, but I came upon signs that told me 
enough. If I had been an experienced woods- 
man I could have read much more from those 
signs, I have no doubt.” 

Abner shook his head dolefully. Then he de- 
clared, “I’ll fix up some yarn about gitting a 
message back to the mills and send the boys 
with it. Then I’ll go on alone, and if anyone 
is hurt it’ll only be old Abner Whitten. And 


INTO A STRANGE COUNTRY 241 


I’ll pass out a-hoping that someone will be 
brought to book for the murder.” 

“It won’t be discovered as a murder,” sighed 
the professor. “Word will come that you were 
caught by a tree, or some such report. If I 
were you I’d wait till Noisy Charlie comes 
along and then make the trip without the 
boys.” 

“No,” said Abner firmly, “I won’t have it 
appear I’m afraid to go up there alone. I start 
after dinner, but the younkers must return to 
the mills.” 

“Which the younkers most positively will 
not do, Mr. Whitten, humbly begging your par- 
don for overhearing your remarks,” broke in 
Stanley’s resolute voice. 

“Which remarks ought to make you feel 
ashamed to look us in the face. Mister Whit- 
ten,” angrily added Bub’s voice. 

“See here! Who’s boss ’round here? Me 
or two young varmints that come a snooping 
’round and listening to their elders’ private 
talk?” fumed Abner. 

“It will do no good to find fault with us,” 
gently replied Stanley. 

“It won’t, eh?” blustered Abner. “Wal, 
we’ll see. When folks come a-spying 
’round—” 


242 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISERS 


‘‘We were not spying and you know it, Mis- 
ter Whitten, ’ ’ broke in Bub. 

“It was entirely an accident,” insisted Stan- 
ley. “Professor Carlton believes that.” 

“Of course, boys,” soothed the professor. 
“Both Abner and I know you are not capable of 
any meanness.” 

“They may be angels — ^which fact I’m 
a-doubting — ^but they don’t go with me,” loudly 
announced Abner. 

“Then we’ll follow you,” grinned Bub. 

“Every camp you make you’ll find us near 
neighbors, ’ ’ promised Stanley. 

“See here, boys,” placated Abner; “let’s 
stop arguing. It’s absolutely necessary that 1 
git word back to Hatton — ” 

“0 ho!” roared Bub. “He’s forgotten so 
quick that we overheard about his ‘fixing up 
some yarn.’ ” 

“Thought mebbe ye didn’t hear all I said. 
But ye don’t go with me.” 

“All right. We can make the trip alone 
then,” said Stanley. 

Laura in the background had overheard this 
conversation and now with eyes kindling ap- 
proached and placed a hand on Abner’s shoul- 
der. “Mr. Whitten, I was with Stanley and 
Bub when they came around the corner and 


INTO A STEANGE COUNTRY 243 


caught your words. I do not want any of you 
to make this trip now. Wait till your guide 
returns and overtakes you. Surely, there can 
be no need of hurry.” 

‘‘That’s where you’re wrong, Miss Laura,” 
said Abner. “It’s got to be done in a rush.” 

“If that is the case,” she slowly said, “the 
boys must go with you. It would be a crime 
to let you make the trip alone. ’ ’ 

“Hurrah! ain’t she a brick?” cried Bub, 
swinging his hat. 

“The court seems to be against you, Mr. 
Whitten,” laughed Stanley. “When do we 
start?” 

“Eight after dinner,” growled Abner, filling 
his pipe viciously. “And if any fool younkers 
meet with trouble, Abner H. Whitten ain’t to 
be blamed.” 

After the three young folks had retreated 
triumphantly, Abner remarked, “Two of the 
best younkers a man ever had with him. That 
feller, Eeddy, would kill out any case of blues 
just by gitting ye into trouble. It’s been like 
a three-ring circus ever since we left Kenne- 
bago stream.” 

“I like them immensely,” heartily assured 
the professor. “But now as to the trip. Take 
one of my canoes and follow Briar stream. 


244 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


You’ll have to carry Snake falls and will find 
lots of swift water to be poled above that point. 
But you ought to make the trip in three days, 
even if you take it easy. You’ll find my blaze 
at the southeast end of the ridge and can fol- 
low it right through due north as the company 
claims the line was originally run. That’ll 
save you some time. You can take my line as 
correct, as I was very careful.” 

The youths and Laura in the meanwhile were 
busy in planning on a reunion, as Stanley in- 
sisted on styling their next meeting. Bub tried 
to aid with the dinner but was expelled from 
the kitchen after spilling the flour. 

The noon-day meal was eaten largely in 
silence, as each one realized the dangers attend- 
ing the trip. Abner, however, was not de- 
terred by any gloomy cast of thoughts from eat- 
ing most heartily. When it came time to pack 
the knapsacks — kindly furnished by the profes- 
sor to replace those lost — Laura quietly in- 
sisted on contributing various delicacies as well 
as a quantity of substantial viands. 

‘Ht’s the first time in my life I ever took 
home-cooking into the woods,” said Abner. 

Guess Noisy Charlie would give me the lafp if 
he knew it. He’d say I was gitting to he a 
reg’lar dude.” 


INTO A STRANGE COUNTRY 245 


‘‘Then we’ll leave Miss Laura’s cooking be- 
hind,” suggested Bub, winking elaborately. 

“Wal, ye won’t,” cried Abner, beginning to 
get excited. “What do I care fer Charlie, or 
any other man’s opinion. I’ll take what I want 
to.” And be hurried to complete the pack- 
ing as if fearing Laura might change her 
mind. 

Professor Carlton and Laura accompanied 
the three half way down the mountain, when 
the youths insisted that Laura should return 
home. The professor completed the journey to 
the canoe, and after giving Abner additional 
explicit directions earnestly shook each by the 
hand and bade them God-speed. 

That afternoon the cruisers took things easy, 
one of them always keeping a sharp outlook for 
Big Nick. But twilight found them peacefully 
arrived at a good camping-place with nothing 
having happened to disturb the placid quiet of 
their progress. Thus far they had used the 
paddles and Stanley began to pride himself 
upon his ability in this line. His exultation 
was short-lived, however, when Abner found 
he had constructed the lean-to in a stand of tall 
spruce. 

“Want to kill us all afore Big Nick can git 
a whack at us?” rebuked Abner. “What d’ye 


246 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISEES 


s’pose Bub and me always picked a open place 
fer, if it wasn’t the best place?” 

supposed you just happened to,” replied 
Stanley, meekly. 

‘‘See that limb, there?” and he pointed to a 
large bough that had been wrenched off by 
lightning or a tempest. Stanley nodded. 
“Wal, if yer lean-to had been standing beneath 
it we’d all be dead by this time,” continued 
Abner. “Pitch yer shelter out there in the 
open where nothing can fall on us if it comes 
up a blow.” 

Properly humbled Stanley patiently undid 
his work and completed the slanting roof as 
directed. Bub grinned sympathetically and 
asked him if he were building a whole village. 

Trout supplemented their domestic rations, 
and each said he had never enjoyed a meal 
more. Then Abner lighted his pipe for a brief 
smoke before turning in. An olive backed 
thrush, far up the slope, was singing an even- 
ing song. The echo faintly responded from 
some nearby mountain, while Stanley’s favor- 
ite, the hermit thrush, filled the woods about 
them with vocal purity. 

On the next day the falls were encountered. 
Two tiresome trips were necessary to carry 
the canoe and supplies around this obstacle, 


INTO A STRANGE COUNTRY 247 

and once the water road was resumed the 
paddles were laid aside for poles. Abner and 
Bub handled the poles, although Stanley 
begged to be allowed to help. 

‘‘We can’t run the risk of being dumped,” 
growled Abner. “We’ve got everything 
lashed tight, so’s if we should git dumped 
there’s nothing that can git away. But we 
ain’t taking no chances with a green man.” 

“But I’ve learned to paddle,” protested 
Stanley, who did not enjoy remaining idle as 
if he could not be trusted. 

“A child can learn to paddle,” sneered Bub. 
“But only men are allowed to handle a pole, 
my son.” 

“I don’t see as there is anything very diffi- 
cult about it,” answered Stanley. “You sim- 
ply put the pole in and push. Think I’m go- 
ing to loaf through all this swift water?” 

“You surely will, my son, unless you get out 
and wade,” teased Bub. “Now, be silent, 
please ; children should be seen and not heard.” 

And to exhibit his skill to the envious Stan- 
ley he carelessly pushed on his pole and in a 
second it was caught between two rocks and the 
canoe capsized. 

“What — what in sin be ye doing?” angrily 
cried Abner, as he rose spluttering to the sur- 


248 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 

face and braced against the current to bold the 
canoe. 

Between coughing and laughing Stanley 
could only point to the streaming, downcast 
face of Bub. Finally he managed to inform, 
‘Ht is not my fault. Mr. Thomas, the expert, 
is the one to blame.” 

Don’t see how my pole caught,” sheepishly 
bellowed Bub above the roar of the current. 

With considerable effort and with each of 
the trio going under water more than once 
the delicate craft was worked ashore and 
righted. Nothing had been lost, but the flour 
was a dark brown paste. 

‘^Give Reddy that pole and sit down and see 
if ye can keep quiet,” thundered Abner, as the 
journey was recommenced. 

Bub silently obeyed and grinned ruefully as 
Stanley took his place and deftly performed 
his portion of the labor. 

‘Ht’s all in knowing how, Mr. Thomas,” he 
informed the disconsolate Bub. As no more 
accidents marred the day good progress was 
made before camp was pitched. 

As Stanley was preparing the lean-to, this 
time in an opening, he was struck with the use- 
lessness of going through the daily grind of 


INTO A STKANGE COUNTRY 249 


cutting poles and gathering spruce or pine 
boughs. 

^‘Why isn’t it more sensible to take a tent 
along?” he impatiently inquired, irritated by 
some remarks from Bub. 

‘‘Don’t want a tent,” grumbled Abner, still 
lamenting the loss of the flour. “If it had 
been in that canoe when we was spilled it would 
be soaked and heavy as lead. A tent ain’t the 
easiest thing in the world to pack ’round 
through the woods. If ye knew ye was going 
to be located in one spot for several weeks ye 
might consider it, but who wants to tote a 
heavy canvas when a few minutes’ work by a 
smart younker like yerself will build something 
to take the place of it ? ” 

“Other folks must take tents with them,” 
replied Stanley. 

“I guess not up in this region,” said Abner. 

“Yes, up in this region,” persisted Stanley, 
his eyes gleaming in triumph as he believed he 
was about to get the best of the veteran. 

“And why?” dryly asked Abner. 

“Because if anyone built a lean-to they’d 
leave it standing. And here are the remains 
of a campfire and there’s no lean-to. That 
shows whoever built the fire had a tent.” 


250 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISEES 


‘‘A campfire!’’ cried Abner, quickly leaving 
his task of preparing the coifee. ‘‘Where?” 

Stanley indicated the charred embers he had 
discovered, and with a smothered exclamation 
Abner kneeled and examined them closely. 

“They’re ahead of ns,” he quietly an- 
nounced as he rose to his feet. 

“They? who?” asked Stanley, his voice a bit 
nervous. 

“Members of the Nace outfit,” shortly re- 
plied Abner, his face drawing down. 

“But how do you know?” persisted Stanley, 
gazing apprehensively over his shoulder at the 
still, dusky depths of the forest. 

“It’s a fresh fire,” explained Abner, the 
worried look deepening on his wrinkled fea- 
tures. 

Bub came forward and examined the black- 
ened sticks and pieces of charcoal carefully. 
“It was built before the rain of night before 
last,” he said. 

“That’s right,” frowned Abner. “And it 
means they are only a day ahead of us.” 

“But why do you say ‘they’?” There may 
be only one,” suggested Stanley. 

“They are following the stream. They have 
a canoe,” replied Abner. “If there was but 
one man we’d overhauled him. There are 


INTO A STEANGE COUNTEY 251 


three or four. They slept in their blankets 
without a shelter. That means they are in a 
rush. I hope ye ain’t been cleaning the rifles 
again, Eeddy.” 

see to it that the rifles are loaded all the 
time,” chuckled Bub. 

^‘Well, there’s one consolation,” declared 
Stanley, his voice full of confidence. ‘^They 
did not believe we would come this way, else 
they would have concealed their fire.” 

^‘That’s good woodsman craft,” cried Abner, 
his eyes brightening. ^^They took it for 
granted we would wait on Hood till Noisy 
Charlie come along, or they’d never left such 
a trail. So, we don’t have to fear an ambush, 
unless we go too fast and overtake ’em. We’ll 
be sort of quiet and Injun like to-morrer and 
keep a careful eye out fer all small clearings 
on the bank.” 

That night Stanley did not rest as well as 
usual. Throughout his dreams the blood- 
streaked face of Big Nick played an important 
part and once Bub aroused him with a kick and 
asked him what he was groaning about. 

“I thought the half-breed had me,” shivered 
Stanley, pressing close to his friend. 

Don’t cry till you’re hurt,” sleepily advised 
Bub. ‘‘We’re loaded now and we don’t run 


252 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 


from a regiment of Big Nicks. Besides, he 
knows we are loaded and he won’t be as bold 
again. ’ ’ 

The third day was taken more leisurely. 
With Stanley able to handle a pole the previ- 
ous day’s record could have been surpassed 
with ease; but Abner was content to advance 
slowly, ever keeping a close watch of the hanks 
ahead. 

‘‘What I fear to see is a thread of smoke,” 
he explained to his young companions. “If 
they should let up their pace we ’d come in sight 
of their campfire. That would mean we ’d have 
to hide the canoe and make a circle around ’em, 
which would be hard work and would cost us 
time. If we can reach the foot of Flat- 
top Eidge without running into ’em I’ll be 
tickled to death. For that’s where we begin 
work. ’ ’ 

“Flat-top, eh?” pondered Bub. “That’s a 
new country to me.” 

“As it is to me. I had orders to say noth- 
ing till we was about there. As we should see 
it when we turn the next bend I feel at liberty 
to speak.” 

In a short time the bend was reached and 
three pair of eyes were anxiously focused 
ahead. 


INTO A STEANGE COUNTEY 253 


“There she muttered Abner, pointing to 
a long sugar-loaf shaped ridge. “This stream 
comes along its base. The disputed line is on 
the east end. If we can make pretty near the 
end we’ll take to the woods.” 

For the rest of the afternoon dead water was 
encountered, which not only lessened the 
drudgery but also allowed more time to examine 
the banks. Whenever possible Abner hugged 
the east shore, believing those ahead would 
camp on that side as it would take them to the 
base of the ridge. 

Several times Stanley gave a false alarm, 
mistaking some wood sound for a human voice. 
Especially deceiving to him was the conversa- 
tional tone of the coon as twilight gathered. 
Although fooled by it the night he left the 
lean-to to evidence his courage, he could not rid 
himself of the belief but what he heard two men 
talking in low tones each time one of the ani- 
mals sounded his note. 

“We’ll camp here,” abruptly informed 
Abner, turning the canoe ashore. “And don’t 
build a fire,” he added as they quietly disem- 
barked and threw their supplies on the shore. 
^ ‘ That is, not till we find out if our friends are 
in this neighborhood. ’ ’ 

For some distance up stream and in back 


254 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEKS 


Abner went on a solitary scouting expedition, 
but returned with no news. 

‘‘I’ll go up that rise and climb a tree,” 
offered Bub. “If there is a fire any- 
where along the stream I’ll most likely see 
it.” 

Abner nodded his consent and Bub dashed 
away. Stanley would have gone with him, but 
not being invited believed his friend would pre- 
fer to go alone. 

In a short space of time Bub came running 
noiselessly back. 

“Weill” asked Abner, not lifting his head 
from the task of unpacking the food. 

“I saw their campfire fully half a mile up- 
stream,” panted Bub. 

“I expected as much,” calmly announced 
Abner. “And it relieves my mind. They 
don’t suspect we’re in this neighborhood, or 
they’d mask it. Git some dry stick and start a 
small blaze back of them hemlocks. Ye needn’t 
be afraid of a little smoke, as it’s gitting dark, 
but don’t make more’n necessary, as that Big 
Nick can see like a hungry hawk. After we’ve 
had our supper we’ll hide the canoe and sneak 
in back towards the end of the ridge. It may 
be we can do our work and git out without 
their knowing it.” 


INTO A STEANGE COUNTRY 255 


‘ ‘ Only it will mean we must eat cold victuals, ’ ’ 
sighed Bub. 

We ’ll be lucky if we’re allowed to eat any- 
thing. By jing! I’d give a cookie if Noisy 
Charlie was only here.” 


CHAPTER FIFTEEN 


A VAIN SEAECH 

Skirting the ridge from the river bank to 
the southeast point where Professor Carlton 
had commenced his survey and where Abner 
knew he would find the warden’s blaze the three 
cruisers took advantage of the remaining twi- 
light to proceed towards their destination and 
put as much distance between them and the 
hostile camp-fire up-stream as possible. 

Needless to say the small campfire built be- 
hind the hemlocks was carefully obliterated, 
Bub taking pains to scatter dried leaves and 
sticks over the dead embers. The canoe, too, 
was cunningly concealed a few yards from the 
bank. With all traces of their arrival thus 
eliminated the trio believed their presence 
would be unsuspected till some accident re- 
vealed it. 

‘‘And we must be mighty careful not to have 
any accidents happen,” cautioned Abner, who 
was leading the way. 

“If them fellers believe we are at Hood 
mountain they will keep to the river, waiting 

£56 


A VAIN SEARCH 


257 


for us to arrive. They won’t think of cruising 
around the ridge ’less they see a smoke, or hear 
a rifle shot. So, it’s short rations and a quick 
trip. Gitting back is what troubles me.” 

‘^Why?” asked Bub. 

expected Reddy to put that question,” re- 
plied Abner. ^H’m afraid that by the time 
we’ve done our work the Nace gang will have 
learned we ain’t at Hood, and being suspicious 
that we’re up here they’ll begin snooping 
’round a bit.” 

feel a sprinkle,” broke in Stanley, who 
had been holding out his palm to test the 
weather. 

“By jing! that’s so. It*s going to rain,” 
mumbled Abner. “We’ll have to find an open- 
ing and put up a lean-to. Only, ye’ll have to 
use yer knives in cutting the poles as we can’t 
risk any noise. “I’d planned on sleeping in 
our blankets to-night.” 

“And what if they find the lean-to?” in- 
quired Stanley, who preferred a drenching to 
the chance of meeting Big Nick and his friends. 

“We’ll take the chance,” returned Abner. 
“It ain’t likely they’ll do any scouting while it 
rains and there won’t be any signs to draw 
’em over here anyway. I ’m too old to sleep in 
wet blankets ’less I have to. If my rheumatiz 


258 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISERS 


gits to capering ’round' in my system ye’ll find 
ye have a cripple to tote back to civilization.” 

Never knew you had rheumatism,” said 
Bub, as they halted in a small opening sur- 
rounded by dense growth. 

‘‘Never had,” readily conceded Abner. 
“But I might have. And I’m too old to git 
use to it.” 

The gathering darkness and the fact the 
hatchets were prohibited made the task of 
erecting the lean-to an arduous one. Besides 
the rain was pattering down quite steadily be- 
fore the last spruce bough was placed on the 
roof and the three crawled into moist blankets 
in any but an agreeable frame of mind. 

The continual drip-drip of the rain brought 
a feeling of homesickness to Stanley, which he 
sought in vain to fight otf. His thoughts wan- 
dered persistently to the snug home up on Hood 
mountain and he recalled over and over the 
kind words and advice of Laura. His com- 
panions could not know what was on his mind, 
nor that long after their regular breathing told 
they were asleep that he remained awake and 
miserable. 

The morning broke grey and sullen. The 
rain had ceased but threatened to fall at any 
minute. Stanley gazed hopefully towards the 


A VAIN SEARCH 259 

east, trusting to find a faint glow that would be- 
token the coming of the sun. 

^^Ye needn’t spend time staring for clear 
weather,” snapped Abner, whose temper was a 
bit out of joint as he prepared a meager break- 
fast. ‘‘Ye ought to know by this time that 
when the clouds hang as low and heavy as they 
do now that it ’ll keep it up all day. ’ ’ 

“He hasn’t been out in a rain storm before,” 
reminded Bub. ‘ ‘ The only rain we ’ve had was 
the night we slept warm and tight up on Hood. 

“Will ye keep shut?” groaned Abner. 
“What ye want to bring up them memories 
fer? I’m trying to keep my mind otf’n it. I 
vum! but I’d like to be sticking my legs under 
that table now. Real coffee with condensed 
milk and some of Miss Laura’s cakes and 
maple syrup.” 

“She makes the best buttered toast I ever 
ate,” sighed Stanley. 

“Let her and her toast alone,” harshly com- 
manded Abner. • “Want to drive me crazy? 
The idee of talking about toast when we’ve 
got to set down to soggy bread and cold 
victuals and no coffee. Prob’ly she’ll be hav- 
ing some of them hot rolls this morning. 
Never see a timber cruiser yet but what was a 
fool, jelse he wouldn’t be prying ’round in the 


260 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


woods when he could have a hot breakfast in a 
civilized way.” 

The old man’s inconsistency evoked a faint 
smile from the two youths, but the day was 
too dreary for a thorough appreciation. 

After the hurried meal Abner strapped on 
his pack and led the way through a fine drizzle. 
At first it was nothing more than a mist which 
caused their clothing to steam. Gradually the 
water began to trickle from their hat brims into 
their eyes and down their necks until Bub said 
he wished he could fall into a pool and get well 
soaked and have done with it. 

With the exception of the wayfarers the 
whole wood seemed to be indoors. No bird 
calls gladdened their path; no unseen forms 
crashed away in alarm as they advanced. 
Only the monotonous drip-drip accompanied 
them. Under the spruce and pine they found 
something of shelter, but when the hardwood 
growth was penetrated Abner’s hand in push- 
ing aside limb or bush sent a shower-bath over 
the two behind, and by the time they reached 
the foot of the ridge they were th^)roughly 
drenched. 

Can’t we build a little fire and dry out?” 
asked Stanley. 

‘Hf ye could build a fire on all sides and over- 


A VAIN SEAECH 


261 


head and carry it ’round with ye all day it 
might he a good scheme,” sarcastically replied 
Abner. ^‘But fer me, I’d prefer not to go 
through the process of gitting wet ag’in. What 
good would it do ye if ye was hone dry this 
minute? In five more ye’d be wet a ’gin. No, 
we’ll rough it. This is what city chaps pay 
money to enjoy in the woods.” 

‘ ‘ Only they usually bring lots of tents and a 
stove and read novels inside while it rains,” 
added Bub. 

‘‘I can stand it,” laughed Stanley, now be- 
ginning to be amused at the water trickling 
down into Abner’s disgusted eyes. 

“Shall we wait till to-morrow before begin- 
ning the cruise ? ’ ’ asked Bub, whose hopes were 
centered on an affirmative answer. 

“No, sirree!” exploded Abner. “We’ll 
start in now. If this rain thinks it can make 
me quit it’s mistaken.” 

“But we don’t ever work when it rains,” 
remonstrated Bub. 

“That’s true when we are on a decent cruise, 
as the time we spend drying our clothes at 
night more’n takes off anything we gain. But 
this is a rush order and we ’ve got to go through 
with it.” 

“If the rain inconveniences us it will keep 


262 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


Big Nick and his gang under cover/’ Stanley 
sought to encourage. 

‘H’d almost prefer to dodge a hot bullet to 
catching wet rain drops all day,” grumbled 
Abner, viciously pushing his way through 
some undergrowth. ‘‘.Come on; we’ll make a 
start.” 

With a doleful grin Bub winked at Stanley 
and fell in behind. For two hours the three 
climbed and fought their way up the side of 
the ridge. Then Abner came to a halt and be- 
gan hunting for the warden’s blaze. 

“He said I’d be sure to find it and could 
depend upon it,” growled Abner after several 
minutes of vain effort. “He didn’t know 
what he was talking about. I’ll bet there ain’t 
a mark within a mile of here. Most likely he 
started in at the other end of — ” 

“Possibly this is it,” broke in Stanley, pull- 
ing aside some rain laden boughs and revealing 
a chipped trunk. 

“Wal, he must have took pains to hide it,” 
crustily acknowledged Abner. 

But with the finding of the blaze Abner’s 
temper improved a trifle. In his zeal to run 
out the old line he forgot the rain in a measure 
and his eyes regained some of their old light 
as he eagerly worked his way due north. 


A VAIN SEARCH 


263 


By the aid of his compass and map and with 
the youths some fifteen feet on either side of 
him he pursued his quest for a mile. The net 
result of his endeavors was zero. 

To be doubly sure he carefully retraced his 
steps and arrived at the starting point without 
having discovered anything in the company's 
favor. 

‘‘It’s simply a waste of time and muscle,” 
he complained as they came to a pause. “If 
Carlton couldn’t find anything it ain’t expected 
that I can. Every monument has been re- 
moved.” 

“Does this end it?” asked Stanley, deeply 
disappointed at their failure. 

“Hardly,” grimly replied Abner. “We’ll 
run the line Nace is depending on. Our line 
originally, as we hold, ran from here due north. 
Nace holds it runs from here northeast. And 
that leaves him the triangle of rattling good 
timber. Wal, let’s be moving.” 

The second trip was made more quickly, as at 
every one-fourth of a mile the cruisers found 
the cedar post, encircled with stones and again 
encircled by blazed trees. 

“Now we’ll cut to the west for a fourth of 
a mile and then we’ve made the round of the 
lot,” said Abner. 


264 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISERS 


This leg of their trip was accomplished in a 
pouring rain, the very heavens seeming to open 
in a purpose to drown them. Although pro- 
tected by a noble growth, the roof of tree tops 
leaked in many places and Stanley never be- 
fore realized how much water his clothing could 
hold. The water squashed in his boots at every 
step and his sleeves were spouts, ever sending 
two trickling streams down his arms and 
wrists. His hat was a sodden rag. 

‘‘Now we are where we were when we turned 
back after tracing the west line,’’ informed 
Abner, coming to a halt. “This makes twice 
we’ve gone over this line going backward, or 
three times in all. I guess I’ll let ye two fol- 
low it out, as there ain’t nothing to be found, 
and I’ll take a dip into the lot and make a few 
stands. Might as well git an idee of what 
we’re losing while I’m about it.” 

Bub nodded and took the lead, striking a true 
course to the point where Professor Carlton 
had made his initial blaze. The youths pro- 
ceeded slowly, each secretly anxious to find 
some trace of a monument or boundary mark, 
in order to crow over Abner. As a result the 
three arrived at the starting point at about the 
same time. 

The rain began to lessen, but it was not the 


A VAIN SEAECH 265 

promise of a clear to-morrow that caused 
Abner’s eyes to light up with enthusiasm. 

Younkers, it’s one of the best bits of spruce 
I ever see,” he cried, smacking his lips. 
made about ten stands and figger it will run 
ahead of any eighty acres in the state.” 

^‘And we can’t have it,” reminded Stanley, 
sorrowfully. 

The light faded from the veteran’s gaze and 
he bowed his head. ‘‘I was so took up with 
the timber that I plumb forgot it isn’t fer us 
to operate,” he groaned. ‘‘Why! it’s simply a 
shame to let such a growth git away from the 
Great Northern. If I wasn’t a honest man I’d 
shift them posts back where Nace prob’ly took 
’em from in the first place.” 

“That would be hardly honest,” protested 
Stanley. “We are not positive that he re- 
moved them. We only suspect it.” 

‘ ‘ Of course we can ’t do it, although anything 
would be honest if it beat Nace,” snarled 
Abner. “But it wouldn’t do any good to shift 
’em, as he’s had surveyors up here, who’ll 
swear as to where they found the posts. I 
must admit that all the marks are there as he 
claims, even to the marks on the beech beside 
the half-mile post. I guess we lose.” 

“Well, what next?” demanded the practical 


266 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


Bub. “No use crying over spilled milk. If 
we canT find anything, we canT, and we might 
as well eat. The company canT blame us for 
failing to do the impossible.’’ 

“I hate to give up,” remonstrated Stanley. 

“Seeing it’s the first time I ever failed I kind 
of feel the same way, ’ ’ shortly informed Abner. 
“Start a small blaze. Bub.” 

“Going to risk a fire!” inquired Bub, his 
tone showing surprise. 

“Yas, I’m going to risk a fire,” returned 
Abner, completely losing his patience. “Is it 
fer me or one ye younkers to say what I’ll 
risk!” 

“Certainly it is for you, Mister Whitten,” 
politely answered Bub. 

“Wal, git busy, then. I’m going to have 
some hot cotfee no matter what happens. 
Only, ye needn’t feel called upon to make a 
bonfire.” 

But the steaming coffee did not work any 
radical change in the veteran’s temperament. 
It was not the discomforts of the day that 
affected him ; it was the knowledge that he had 
failed for the first time in his long career. 

“It ain’t fair,” the youths heard him mutter- 
ing to himself as he moodily filled his pipe. 
“It ain’t right to send me up to do detective 


A VAIN SEAKCH 


267 


work. I’m a timber cruiser. Give me a cant 
and I’ll cruise it and tell bow much she’ll cut 
and what equipment is needed. But I never 
advertised myself to be a detective that could 
find what ain’t to be found. Hatton said I 
needn’t come back till I’d won out. His own 
job was in the balance. I’ll beat back to the 
warden’s and send in word I’m looking fer a 
new place.” 

Stanley grimaced as he overheard this con- 
fession of defeat and gazed appealingly at Bub. 
But the latter simply shook his head, indicating 
that he, too, surrendered and believed there 
was nothing they could do. 

‘‘How long do we stay here, Mr. Whitten?” 
finally asked Stanley. 

Abner raised his head and stared vacantly; 
then as he sensed the query he shortly replied, 
“I’m waiting fer Noisy Charlie to arrive. If 
he don’t come by to-morrer I’ll start back. He 
knows where to look fer us and should turn up 
by to-morrer morning.” 

“Isn’t there anything he could do to help 
us?” anxiously asked Stanley. 

Abner knocked out the heel of his pipe in 
deep irritation. “S’pose a Injun guide can 
cruise better ’n I can?” he demanded. “Char- 
lie has his fine points, but when it comes to 


268 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEKS 


locating lines and monuments I can teach him 
his A B C’s.” 

‘‘That^s so/’ whispered Buh. Abner 

can’t win out, no one can. When Hatton sent 
him up here he knew he was sending the best 
man in the state. ^But he can’t do the impos- 
sible.” 

^‘Did Hatton mean what he said about dis- 
charging him if he failed?” murmured Stan- 
ley. 

Bub grinned, ‘‘Guess he’d change his mind 
if he did,” he replied. “Anyway, Abner would 
he so touchy that he’d refuse to go back unless 
he succeeded. So far as a job is concerned 
there isn’t an operator in Maine, doing busi- 
ness on a big scale, hut who would be glad to 
get Abner. He’s had lots of offers from all 
over. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Then he means what he says ; that he gives 
up all hope and admits the fight is lost?” 
queried Stanley, his eyes flashing. 

‘ ‘ That is exactly what he means, my son, and 
I ’d lose lots of sleep over it, if that would help 
any,” returned Buh. 

“I feel mad clear through. I’m going to 
walk it off. Give me the rifle,” gritted Stan- 
ley, rising. 

“I wouldn’t take a gun, Stanley,” advised 


A VAIN SEAECH 


269 


Bub. ‘‘Take an ax. You won’t meet any- 
thing that needs a gun, and it would only mean 
you’d have to clean it up after you got hack. 
Leave the gun in its case and take an ax, my 
son.” 

“All right,” agreed Stanley. “Don’t worry 
about me. I can find my way back. See, it is 
about to clear up.” And he pointed to a rift 
in the clouds where a spear of sunshine was 
stabbing its way through to gladden the earth. 

“Don’t leave the ridge, and be careful to 
keep along our blaze,” yawned Bub, feeling in- 
clined to take a nap. 

Abner lifted his head with a jerk. “Where 
ye going?” he sharply demanded. 

“Only for a little stroll to get some of the 
mad out of my system?” sadly smiled Stanley, 
grasping the ax. 

“I don’t blame ye. Follow the blaze due 
north and ye can’t get lost. And as I don’t 
relish the idee of staying behind with this mag- 
pie I’ll cruise over towards the enemy’s camp 
and see what they’re doing. Stay here, Bub, 
and keep camp.” 

‘ ‘ Come back in good temper. Mister Whitten ; 
and be careful that Big Nick doesn’t get a 
crack at you. Take a rifle?” 

“No,” decided Abner. “I don’t figger on 


270 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


being seen. No use to git the guns wet. Ee- 
member, Eeddy, don’t leave the blaze and don’t 
fail to git back before it’s dark.” 

“I’ll be here before you are,” promised 
Stanley. “I shall not go far. The sunshine 
is beginning to cure me already. So long, 
Bub.” 

“Be sure and find all the missing monu- 
ments,” cautioned Bub. 

“As Nace has stolen them and set them up 
on the other line I fear I can’t,” laughed Stan- 
ley. “But I feel it in my bones that we’re 
going to win out yet.” 

“What ye feel in yer bones is a touch of 
rheumatiz,” grumbled Abner, striding away 
towards the river. 


CHAPTER SIXTEEN 


A DISCOVERY AND A CAPTURE 

Stanley felt quite an adventurer as he picked 
his way from blaze to blaze. When with the 
others he had simply followed their lead. Now 
all the responsibility rested on him. Of course 
the frequent patches left by Abner’s hatchet 
were a sufficient guide even to his untrained 
eyes. He simply had to keep along this line to 
pick a correct course, both going and returning. 
And yet the undertaking was tinged with an 
air of danger. 

In the first place he was alone ; secondly, his 
isolation permitted him to people the woods 
with hidden foes. He grasped the ax firmly 
as he advanced and smiled grimly to find him- 
self moving with cautious tread. Once a por- 
cupine leisurely crossed his path and he half- 
raised the ax, expecting to meet some danger- 
ous enemy. 

When about half way down the line he halted 
irresolute. For some unnamed reason he felt 
impelled to return. 

‘‘Nonsense,” he told himself. “Nothing can 


271 


272 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISERS 


be wrong with Bub. I said I would go to the 
end of the line and I will.’’ 

Still the vague feeling of alarm accompanied 
him as he closed his lips and resolutely resumed 
his way to the north. It seemed a long mile, but 
at last he came to the last blaze and willingly 
turned to retrace his steps. 

As he took the backward trail his desire to 
do something to aid Abner got the better of his 
nervousness and he found himself closely 
scanning every foot of the way between the 
marked trees. He half smiled at his conceit, 
but persisted in his search. Only he did not 
know what he was searching for. It would be 
almost a miracle if Nace — providing he had 
shifted the boundaries — had left any tell-tale 
clues behind him. Reason repeatedly told him 
this much, and yet his optimism kept urging 
him to search. 

‘‘Well, I confess I’m several kinds of an 
idiot,” he frankly assured himself as he leaned 
against a large tree to rest. Through a rift 
in the swaying roof he could catch a glimpse of 
blue sky. The sun as yet had not penetrated 
his resting place, but it was comforting to know 
that once back in the open he could speedily dry 
his soggy clothing. 

As he ruminated over the last few days and 


A DISCOVERY AND A CAPTURE 273 


Abner’s great disappointment be began to go 
over the situation in detail. Nace bad every- 
thing to prove bis case. Even tbe big beecb 
with tbe surveyor’s private mark, made nearly 
a century before, still stood as a witness for tbe 
suspected operator. Tbis led bim to notice 
that tbe tree be was leaning against also was a 
beecb and bis eyes opened in admiration as be 
decided it must be nearly three feet in diameter. 

^‘It’s more than two and a half feet,” be 
mused, tapping tbe trunk idly with tbe back of 
bis ax. ^^It’s fully as large— yes, larger — 
than tbe one on Nace’s line. It’s about half 
way.’ ’ 

Then bis breath came in a gasp as bis ax- 
bead bit a place that gave back a dead sound. 

Tbe bark looked smooth, yet it felt beneath 
tbe ax as if tbe wood were dead. 

‘‘It can’t be! it can’t be!” be murmured, 
sinking down at tbe foot of tbe tree. 

Then be rose and examined tbe trunk more 
carefully. ‘ ‘ How Bub would laugh at me if be 
could see me,” be muttered. But tbe more be 
tapped tbe bark tbe more excited be became and 
at last be cut a notch above tbe hollow sound- 
ing spot and one below it. 

“That will be a strip about eighteen inches 
long,” be whispered, hardly daring to proceed. 


274 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISEES 


‘‘Now I’ll measure outside the dead spot 
about five inches. That makes it ten inches 
wide ; now to cut it out. But I must work care- 
fully, so I can replace the bark. For if Bub 
or Abner should find it I ’d have to confess and 
then they’d joke me ever after.” 

Composing himself he quickly cut the four 
sides of the panel of bark and drawing a long 
breath wrenched it loose. With an inarticulate 
cry he stood dumbfounded. There on the tree, 
clearly outlined in every detail, was the linked 
circles crossed by the arrow, just as they had 
found it on the other beech. There were the 
original owners ’ initials, also. 

“Can it be! Can it possibly be!” he re- 
peated over and over, staring with mouth 
agape at the ancient record preserved in the 
tree trunk. 

“Am I dreaming, or is it real?” he whis- 
pered, pinching himself to make sure he was 
not asleep. But there was no doubt of his im- 
portant discovery and his heart expanded and 
he felt dizzy as he faintly realized this one tree 
was worth more than a tenth of a million dol- 
lars as it stood. 

Finally he collected his scattered senses and 
examined the panel of bark. Here he had new 
reason for wonderment and exultation. For 


A DISCOVERY AND A CAPTURE 275 


the inside of the bark in fitting into the ancient 
marking had grown ridges that were the re- 
verse of the circles and initials. He knew that 
if it were held np before a mirror it would read 
as did the original. 

Then the magnitude of it swept over him ; he 
had found by accident what Abner, the veteran 
could not. It was all clear to him now. Na- 
ture, on discovering the wounds inflicted by 
man, had promptly set to work to heal and con- 
ceal. The bark had gradually formed a new 
protecting surface over the marking, invading 
all the creases in its etfort to undo man’s 
work. 

Sometime within the last few years Nace had 
discovered that if the cedar posts were shifted 
it might be possible to get possession of a big 
slice of this timber land. A beech was men- 
tioned in the original description of the true 
line. He had found no beech bearing any 
record of the survey and had passed this hid- 
den monument unsuspecting. But he had 
found a big beech about half way of the line he 
intended to substitute. The original beech had 
been destroyed, he undoubtedly believed. But 
the ancient beech on his fraudulent line would 
be accepted as the genuine. It only needed the 
mark of the two circles and arrow and the 


276 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


initials. This forgery he undoubtedly did him- 
self, not trusting another, Stanley concluded. 
And in doing it he was cunning enough to give 
it every appearance of age. Then after a few 
years had passed and nature had come to his 
assistance in furthering the deception he had 
announced his holdings to include the disputed 
territory. 

can’t make it seem true even yet,” com- 
plained Stanley to a squirrel chattering at 
him from a nearby limb. ‘‘It’s simply ridic- 
ulous that I should blunder onto this all-impor- 
tant tree.” 

This line of thought led him to a graver one. 
What should he do with his discovery? 
Should he hasten to camp, triumphantly bear- 
ing the strip of bark as his first impulse urged 
him ; or should he proceed more cautiously and 
prudently? 

“Now, let’s get this thing right,” he pon- 
dered, frowning at the bark. “If I leave this 
here it will be almost too dark to fetch Abner 
to this spot to-night. I’ve got to tell him to- 
night or I’d go crazy. If I take it with me and 
anything should happen a half of my proof and 
the best half would be lost. For Nace could 
claim he committed the forgery on this beech, 
while everyone would know he couldn’t grow 


A DISCOVERY AND A CAPTURE 277 


this bark so as to tell a lie. No, the bark is the 
important thing.” 

As he was thus weighing the situation he was 
suddenly seized with alarm. He had heard no 
sound, he had seen nothing, and yet his heart 
began beating like a trip-hammer. It was simi- 
lar to the sensation of fear he had experienced 
a short while before, when wandering away 
from the camp. 

guess, Mr. Bark, we’ll hide you here,” he 
whispered, peering stealthily over his shoulder. 

As he searched about him for a hollow tree 
or log in which to place his treasure he laughed 
aloud gently. 

^‘To think I would be silly enough to hide the 
bark and leave the tree exposed. Of course 
the bark must go back in place, also the chips 
I cut out. Now to find them.” 

Owing to the care with which he had removed 
his exhibit he found it an easy task to replace 
the panel so as to defy all but the most careful 
scrutiny. Even the chips, where he cut the 
notches at top and bottom, were arranged in 
place by the means of several pegs. Then to 
more effectually cover up all traces of his work 
he found some reindeer lichen and trailed it 
across the tree. 

Then he stepped back a few feet and tested 


278 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


it. He could discern nothing that would indi- 
cate what was hidden beneath the panel. As 
he was about to turn away, however, he noticed 
he had left the twigs and ground at the foot of 
the beech like an open book to a woodsman. 
He paused long enough to erase all signs of his 
having been there. This done he swung his ax 
over his shoulder and started rapidly for camp. 

Bub had asked him to find the ancient and 
original records. He had found them. And 
how Bub’s eyes would roll and how Abner 
would splutter when he sank wearily into a sit- 
ting posture and by degrees unfolded his great 
secret. He would play the part of one discour- 
aged and work the situation up to a disagree- 
able climax before imparting his news. If pos- 
sible he would lead Abner along into scolding 
him. 

But as he neared the end of his mile cruise 
he found his joviality leaving him. He was un- 
accountably depressed. It angered him to con- 
fess it. Here he was, bringing the best of 
news, and yet he felt as if something had gone 
wrong. He quickened his steps, and then 
halted irresolutely. 

If he arrived and neither of his friends were 
there to welcome him he would not know what 
to do. It would be easier to wait out in the 


A DISCOVERY AND A CAPTURE 279 


woods than to linger by the deserted campfire. 
Of course Bub would be there, and yet there 
was no atmosphere of home-coming for him as 
he came in sight of the opening. 

‘‘0-ee-e-e!’’ he sounded through his hands, 
pausing again for he knew not what reason. 

There was a space of absolute silence and 
then faintly came back ‘^0-e-e-e!’^ 

‘‘That’s Bub,” he muttered. “But his reply 
doesn’t sound very cheerful.” Next he 
smiled; for why should Bub feel cheerful! If 
Bub knew what news was being brought to him 
he would be dancing and prancing to meet his 
chum. 

Again Stanley sounded the call and again it 
was answered ; this time more clearly, but with 
no particular cordiality in its tone. 

“Hi, Bub!” cried Stanley, as he drew within 
calling distance. ‘ ‘ Where are you ? ’ ’ 

“Here,” returned a sullen voice from beyond 
a bunch of ground hemlock. 

“Well, cheer up, Mr. Thomas. Can’t you 
give me a better welcome than that!” There 
was no reply and Stanley continued, “I say, 
old man, it ’s bad enough for Abner to have the 
blues, but when you — Heavens!” 

The exclamation might well be forgiven him. 
For bound to a tree, his mouth distended by a 


280 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


cruel gag and wholly unable to speak, was Bub, 
tears of rage filling his eyes as he beheld his 
unsuspecting companion walking into the trap. 

With a low cry Stanley turned to escape into 
the woods, but was tripped up by a villainous 
looking man, who laughed harshly as he made 
sure of his second victim. 

In a few minutes Stanley found himself tied 
to a tree near Bub, only he was not gagged. 
As he looked about he beheld two other men 
lounging on the ground, but rejoiced to observe 
no signs of Big Nick. 

‘‘Take that gag out of my friend’s mouth,” 
were the first words he uttered. 

“Sort of use to giving orders, eh?” grinned 
the man who had tripped him. 

“Let the cub have a free breath,” advised 
one of the men on the ground. “Besides, we 
shall want them to talk pretty soon.” 

“You miserable cowards to abuse him so,” 
raged Stanley. 

“Shut up!” warned the first speaker, slap- 
ping him across the mouth. Then, adding a 
curse, he said, “He wouldn’t promise not to 
give you warning. Pretty soon he may refuse 
to give us some information, but he’ll be glad 
to. So will you.” 

“You can strike me, because I am helpless,” 


A DISCOVERY AND A CAPTURE 281 


whispered Stanley, his face livid under the 
blow. “But untie me and you do not dare do 
it.’^ 

The man laughed, but not heartily, for there 
was something in the youth’s face that caused 
him to pause and change his mind and lower his 
upraised hand. 

“Let the cubs alone,” growled one of the 
men on the ground. “Ye are too ready to 
knock people ’round ’fore it’s necessary, 
Pete.” 

“Cut out using names, Joe,” growled Pete. 

The third man chuckled. “Better both on 
ye do it, ’ ’ he advised. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” said the man called Joe; 
not seeming much disturbed. “I don’t think 
these two will tell any tales on us. That is, 
Big Nick says they won’t. Gave me his word 
of honor they wouldn’t blab a thing.” And he 
leered hideously. 

“Which on ye cut Nick’s head open?” asked 
the third man. 

“I did,” proudly answered Stanley, his eyes 
glittering. “And I would like to be turned 
loose with the same club against you three mur- 
derers.” 

“Ye would, eh?” growled the man, who had 
cautioned Pete to leave the prisoners alone. 


282 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISERS 


‘‘We ^11 make ye sing another tune in a few 
minutes. How’s yer mouth, Sonny.” The 
last to Bub. 

“Didn’t you know, Stanley, I never gave that 
signal,” he asked, ignoring the man’s query. 
“Couldn’t you tell it wasn’t my answer? It 
seemed as if my heart would break when you 
kept coming ahead and not suspecting any 
danger. ’ ’ 

“I did suspect danger; or rather, I felt as 
if something had gone wrong,” replied Stan- 
ley. “I knew the signal didn’t sound right, 
but supposed the fault was with me. ’ ’ 

“Shut up that chinning,” commanded Joe. 

“Three of the bravest fellows I ever saw,” 
admired Bub, his, face flaming with anger. 
“So brave they jumped me from behind, never 
giving me a chance to defend myself.” 

“We’ll give ye a different sort of a chance 
pretty soon,” grimly promised Pete. 

“Let’s eat,” suggested the third man, rising 
lazily. 

As he prepared bacon and potatoes, drawing 
on the cruisers’ store for the bacon, Joe and 
Pete held an earnest consultation, frequently 
pausing to listen for some signal from the for- 
est. 

“S’pose we’d better stay here till Nick 


A DISCOVERY AND A CAPTURE 283 


shows up/’ finally remarked Pete in a tone 
that carried to the strained hearing of the pale 
faced youths. 

We stick right here. Either that old hound 
will come back, or else he’s taken fright and is 
now being hunted by Nick. Lucky Nick found 
that campfire they thought they’d hid, and then 
located the lean-to!” 

The youths knew that Abner was meant by 
‘‘old hound” and each prayed fervently that he 
would escape capture. 

“He won’t stand a ghost of a show,” con- 
tinued Pete. “He hasn’t any gun with him.” 

“How do you know he hasn’t?” cried out 
Bub. 

Pete grinned wolfishly. “Cause Nick found 
out ye only had two rifles when he first began 
stalking ye,” he explained. “And here be 
both on ’em now.” 

“Let me warn ye,” cautioned Joe with an 
oath,” that if ye try to give any signal I’ll cut 
yer throats.” And he pulled out a murderous 
looking knife to accent his threat. 

Even as he appreciated his danger Stanley 
was thankful that it was due to no error of his 
that the half-breed had found their trail. He 
was also thankful that none of the evil gang 
knew of his discovery in the woods. At first 


284 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEKS 


he was tempted to whisper his secret to Bub, 
but feared that the latter by his expression 
would reveal his satisfaction and excite the 
men’s suspicions. If that were done he be- 
lieved they would resort to torture but that 
they would have the truth from one of them. 
So he closed his lips and kept his news to him- 
self. 

Evidently the men had no fear that either 
youth would call out and warn Abner, should 
the old man approach the camp. This was 
doubtless due to their knowledge that Big Nick 
was searching high and low for the veteran and 
was expected to find him. 

^‘What will they do with usT’ murmured 
Stanley from the corner of his mouth and 
so softly that none of their captors heard 
him. 

‘‘Leave us for Big Nick to finish,” shivered 
Bub, hanging his head to conceal the move- 
ments of his lips. 

“I’m afraid that we’re in for it,” murmured 
Stanley. 

“I should say we are,” replied Bub. 
“There is but one chance in a million that 
Noisy Charlie will come in time. I’d back him 
against the whole outfit.” 

“We can hardly expect him to arrive,” 


A DISCOVERY AND A CAPTURE 285 


agreed Stanley. Then resolutely, “We must 
try to escape.’’ 

“I’m tied so tight my blood can hardly cir- 
culate,” groaned Bub. “If we escape it must 
be at night ; that is, providing we are released 
from these trees.” 

“Them younkers are whispering,” drawled 
the third man, busy with the coffee. 

“Catch ye at it ag’in and I’ll hurt ye bad,” 
growled Pete, slouching up to them and scowl- 
ing into their white faces. 

“I was saying my blood has stopped circu- 
lating, ’ ’ replied Bub in a weak voice. ‘ ‘ I guess 
I’m going to faint away.” 

Pete studied them for a moment undecided, 
and Stanley added, “Why can’t you let us lie 
on the ground? We can’t get away.” 

“What d’ye think, Joe? Shall I rope ’em 
up on the ground ? ’ ’ asked Pete. 

Joe came over and examined the two criti- 
cally. “Mebbe ye’d better. They’d be no use 
if they croaked before we’ve got what we want 
from them. Unhitch ’em.” 

It was a great relief to the youths to find 
themselves on their backs, although tightly 
bound. But in releasing them from the trees 
the men took care to separate them so that they 
could not converse without being overheard. 


286 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISERS 


The three men ate heartily of bacon and 
potatoes and cursed their prisoners roundly for 
not having any flour in their packs. But they 
did not otfer to give them any of the food. 

‘‘I^m hungry,’’ defiantly announced Bub, as 
the three finished their meal and proceeded to 
light their pipes. 

‘‘Be ye?” drawled the third man, smoking 
with great relish. “It’s a good sign in a boy or 
a boss to be hungry. Shows natur’ is trying to 
build up the system. Then by an’ by ye’ll feel 
thirsty. ’ ’ 

“I’d like a drink of water now,” said Stan- 
ley. 

“There ye be,” admired the tormentor. 
“That’s a good sign. I know’d ye’d come to 
it.” But he made no offer to give either food 
or drink. 

As the evening shadows closed in on the little 
group the men became impatient. “It’s too 
late for us to go gunning for the old hound. 
We’ll have to trust to Nick. What say to put- 
ting in the beans?” 

This seemed to meet with favor and soon a 
hole was dug in the ground and filled with 
wood. This was fed until heaped with coals 
and then Joe produced from under a bush a 
huge kettle filled with beans. Evidently the 


A DISCOVERY AND A CAPTURE 287 


villains had prepared to cook this at their 
original camp, but on finding traces of the 
cruisers had brought it with them. The kettle 
was snugly covered and buried in the coals and 
then packed over with earth. 

^‘Thar!’’ admired Pete. ‘‘In the mornin’ 
that will be one of the best kettles of beans ye 
ever was denied a chance to taste.’’ 

“Then you mean to starve us?” calmly 
asked Stanley. 

“Mebbe yas and mebbe no,” slowly answered 
Pete. “It all depends on how glib ye talk in 
the morning. We are just trying to git ye into 
a sweet frame of mind so’s ye’ll answer a few 
questions. That’s all.” 

“You all realize that you will pay a stiff 
price for this abuse?” warned Stanley, his jaw 
thrust forth as his fighting blood dispelled his 
fears. 

All three laughed as if deeply amused. 
“What price can we pay. Sonny?” tantalized 
Joe between puffs. “Two younkers and a old 
man git lost in the woods and never come back. 
Who’s to blame?” 

“So it’s murder, is it?” cried Bub. “You 
may kill us, but Noisy Charlie will have your 
scalps in return.” 

The three men straightened and stared at 


288 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


him angrily. ‘‘That is just the point we want 
to question ye about,” informed the third man 
in a low, cruel tone. “We intended to wait 
till mornin’, but I guess we can hold a term 
of court right now.” 

“Where is this Charlie!” asked Pete, his 
tone uneasy despite his attempt at carelessness. 

“He’s nearer than you think,” jeered Bub. 
“I wouldn’t be in your shoes for all the tim- 
ber in Maine. My! but won’t he walk it to 
you. They say he chased a man clear across 
to Manitoba once and — ” 

“Shut up, ye young devil!” roared Joe, hurl- 
ing a stick of firewood at Bub. The missile left 
a red streak on the youth’s forehead, and Stan- 
ley groaned aloud in mingled fear and fury. 
He believed Bub was to be murdered on the 
spot. But Joe was restrained from following 
up his assault by Pete, who advised: 

“Take it easy. Don’t let the cub rasp ye. 
Time enough to-morrer. They ain’t been tied 
up long enough yet. Wait till mornin’, when 
they ache in every limb and are dying for a 
drink of water, let alone some of our beans.” 

“You can kill us by inches, but we’ll say 
nothing to help you,” declared Stanley, pas- 
sionately. 

“Mebbe not; mebbe ye’ll change yer mind,” 


A DISCOVERY AND A CAPTURE 289 


cliuckled the third man. ‘‘Once we git the old 
hound I guess he’ll talk fast enough to save 
ye.” 

Stanley remained silent, for he knew that 
while Abner would suffer any torture before he 
would tell his plans, the sight of either him or 
Bub being abused would loosen the old man’s 
tongue. 

“Now we’ll go to roost,” announced Joe. 
Saying this he dragged the boys in between him 
and Pete and tied a rope onto their arms and 
legs which in turn he passed around his and 
his companion’s waists. This meant that if 
the hoys sought to escape the least tug on the 
rope would arouse their captors. 

“And if ye git uneasy in the night and wake 
me up by twistin’ ’round I’ll make ye sorry,” 
warned Pete, savagely. 

“I guess it’s no go,” whispered Stanley in 
Buh’s ear as the two laid packed closely to- 
gether. 

“What worries me is Abner,” murmured 
Bub. “He is either captured or else he knows 
what is up and is keeping low.” 

“Bub,” gasped Stanley in a horror filled 
voice, “what if he should he — ” 

“Don’t,” groaned Bub. “Big Nick hasn’t 
caught him yet, or he’d be coming into camp. 


290 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


The fire the men made could be seen by that vil- 
lain for a long distance. He’d climb a tree, 
and if he couldn’t see it, he’d smell it. Abner 
is safe so far. But 0 ! how I wish he had his 
rifie.” 

‘‘Keep shut!” snarled Pete, giving Bub a 
vicious kick. 

Bub winced under the blow, but gritted his 
teeth and made no sound. Stanley’s eyes filled 
with helpless tears, and the two became silent. 


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 


MBS. BRUIN PAYS A VISIT 

The morning broke warm and clear with the 
three men not awakening till long after the 
hour the true woodsman bestirs himself. The 
youths slept but little during the night and 
were softly whispering encouragement several 
hours before their captors showed any incli- 
nation to arouse themselves. 

‘‘They were drinking from a bottle last 
night,’’ murmured Bub. “They’ll get up feel- 
ing ugly. I’ve seen the stuff work at the mill. 
We don’t allow drinking there, but sometimes 
the men break over and they’re always out of 
temper when they sober up. ’ ’ 

As he finished speaking Pete gave a growl 
and turned over on his side. As this brought 
the rope tightly about his waist he began to 
kick vigorously, cursing in a sleepy voice all 
the while. 

At the first sign of danger from the flying 
heels Stanley and Bub drew up their legs and 
Joe received several of the blows. Being in- 
censed he kicked back and the situation began 

291 


292 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISERS 


to be serious till Bub let fly with bis feet, cry- 
ing lustily, “Hi, you two big cowards, want to 
kill us!’’ 

This brought the men to their senses and still 
cursing they untied the ropes and staggered to 
their feet. 

“What d’ye mean, ye young whelps, by kick- 
ing me like that ? ’ ’ bellowed Pete, drawing back 
his heavy boot for a blow. 

“Your friend kicked you. We’re black and 
blue from your brutality,” protested Stanley. 
“If you intend to kill us, do it; but don’t kick 
us to death.” 

“Shut up,” snarled Pete, stirring the third 
man roughly. “Hi, Ben, git up.” 

Ben, like the other two, was in a nasty tem- 
per and swore roundly at Pete for calling him 
by name. “What ye didn’t give away last 
night ye can be counted on to tell this momin’ 
he accused. 

The three might have fallen-to and attacked 
each other, if Bub had not foolishly taunted, 
“There’s mighty little we don’t know about 
you. Jim Nace never sent a bigger pack of 
blunderers to do his dirty work.” 

The three stood and looked at each other in 
silence for several moments. Pete was the 
first to speak and there was something very 


MRS. BRUIN PAYS A VISIT 293 


dangerous in his low, even voice as he said to 
his mates, ‘‘Boys, that settles it. It ain’t a 
question of Nick having his way. It means 
state-prison for us if these brats leave the 
woods.” 

“Ye’re right,” agreed Joe, his brows black 
with evil passions. “I don’t remember just 
what we let out last night, but we must have 
given the whole game away. ’ ’ 

Up to this moment Stanley could not make 
himself believe that the men would kill him. 
What Big Nick might do if he returned to camp 
was the most serious problem on his mind. He 
feared brutality, especially if he refused to 
divulge anything they might ask for ; but in the 
back of his mind he had not thought they would 
slay him in cold blood. Now the sweat stood 
out on his brow as he watched them. There 
was no violence in their behavior now ; instead, 
they appeared grave and thoughtful. This 
mood he wisely decided was more to be dreaded 
than any exhibition of fiery temper. They had 
been harsh and abusive. Now they were filled 
with a common purpose: to escape detection. 
There was but one way they could do this ; they 
must remove all witnesses. And, unappre- 
ciated by the youths, each of the villains 
realized that Jim Nace would disown them and 


294 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISEES 


their acts should they fall into the toils of the 
law. This knowledge steeled them to cover 
their tracks at any cost. 

‘‘Forgive me, Stan. I guess Vve settled it 
now,’’ whispered Bub, his voice choked with 
sobs. 

“Don’t you mind, old man,” soothed Stanley. 
“If you hadn’t given it to them I should have. 
Anyway, we’re not dead yet.” 

The men moodily prepared their fire and cof- 
fee, each seeming to avoid the eyes of the 
others, as if some fell thought would reveal it- 
self should he raise his head. And yet each 
knew that his mate was asking himself the 
same question: How and when? Nor did this 
change in demeanor fail to carry its warning to 
the prisoners. Had the men raved and cursed 
each of the youths would have entertained the 
glimmer of a hope; but the grim silence, the 
brief interchange of inquiring looks, all fore- 
told of a horrible plan. 

At last, as the coffee was set aside and Ben 
was digging out the kettle of beans Pete quietly 
asked, “Shall we wait for Nick?” 

“No,” quickly replied Joe. “No need of 
having more in the game than is necessary.” 

“I say yes,” spoke up Ben, taking the cover 
from the kettle and dipping the point of his 


MES. BEUIN PAYS A VISIT 295 


hunting knife into the savory heans to see if 
they were done to suit him. ‘‘He had the first 
grudge. We would only be actin’ in self- 
defense ; but if he’s anxious to take the job off ’n 
our hands, why not let him?” 

“I guess them is my sentiments,” slowly de- 
cided Pete. 

“I’m willin’ to go the whole hog,” brutally 
announced Joe. “ But if ye two think that way, 
why. I’ll stand back. I only hope we won’t be 
sorry fer waitin’.” 

‘ ‘ How can we be sorry ? ’ ’ scoffed Ben. ‘ ‘ Any 
chance of their getting away? We’ll be hear- 
ing from Nick almost any time now.” 

Before sitting down to their breakfast the 
men lifted Bub against a tree and tied him. 
“Let the t’other one wait till we finish,” sug- 
gested Joe, returning to his coffee. 

As the others were about to follow his exam- 
ple the report of a rifle held them transfixed 
like so many statues. Then came a long drawn 
out cry, like the scream of a lynx. 

“It’s Nick, and he’s sighted his game!” 
yelled Joe, leaping to the rifles. 

Instantly Pete answered the signal and armed 
himself. “Come on,” he shouted to Ben. 
“We may head the old hound off if we work 
sharp.” 


296 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 

‘H’ll stay and watch the brats,’’ Ben otfered, 
loath to leave his breakfast. 

‘‘We’ll be back in a minute,” cried Pete. 
“Take their guns and f oiler us.” 

With a sigh Ben appropriated the cruisers’ 
rifles and disappeared in the woods at the heels 
of his blood-thirsty companions. 

“Bub Thomas, if ever we had a chance it is 
now,” cried Stanley, straining at his cords. 

“I’m choking myself to death trying to work 
loose,” gasped Bub, his swollen face bearing 
out his statement in part. 

Groaning in mental as well as physical an- 
guish Stanley rolled back and forth, struggling 
to release himself. “Oh, for an inch of free- 
dom!” he sobbed. “If my finger was a bit 
longer I believe I could do it. It’s cruel! cruel 
to be held like this.” 

“Oh, heavens, Stan!” sobbed Bub. “We’ve 
lost our one chance. They’re coming back.” 

Stanley, bereft of all hope, caught the crash- 
ing sound in front of them. Suddenly he whis- 
pered, “It doesn’t sound like them.” 

“Maybe it’s Nick, sent back to do the work,” 
shuddered Bub, now hanging very limp from 
the tree. 

“The hemlock moves. Whoever it is he is 
very cautious,” whispered Stanley. 


MES. BEUIN PAYS A VISIT 297 


Bub strained his head, but was unable to see 
the newcomer. Stanley, although prostrate on 
the ground, could see the bushes and ground 
hemlock moving as if the intruder was half de- 
cided not to advance. 

‘^Bub!’’ he cried in a strangled whisper. 
^‘It’s a bear/^ 

Bub ’s form became rigid as within his range 
of vision a large black bear appeared. Walk- 
ing flat-footed and swinging its head from side 
to side the small fierce eyes were centered on 
the campfire. With a thrill of hope both real- 
ized that bruin as yet had not observed them, 
but was following up the odor of the pork and 
beans. 

At another time the youths would have found 
a rich comedy in the bear’s maneuvers to ob- 
tain the coveted kettle. Fearing a trap, angry 
at the smoke and suspicious of the man-smell 
she timidly advanced and as often gave a snarl- 
ing growl and awkwardly bounded back. Fi- 
nally one hook of a claw caught in the bail and 
the kettle jumped from the fire. 

This action on the part of the kettle instilled 
fresh alarm in bruin’s breast and she retreated 
half into the hemlock, rumbling savagely. 

Stanley was hoping the men would return and 
be destroyed by the bear. Then the absurdity 


298 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEKS 


of this wish was realized and he could find no 
hope of release from the unexpected intruder. 
Bub was concerned only with a fear that the 
bear would sight them and maul them to death. 
While knowing his fate had been decided by the 
three men, let alone Big Nick, he was tenacious 
enough to want to live till the last second. 

Only the steaming smell of the kettle saved 
the boys from being discovered at the outset. 
But Mrs. Bruin, mindful of her cubs at home, 
and extremely fond of pork odors had nostrils 
for the kettle alone. It was hot, but now gin- 
gerly tipping it over some of the beans escaped 
and cooled and with a grunt of joy she gulped 
them down. 

That first taste was so delicious that she cast 
caution to the winds and juggled the kettle 
deftly between her big paws in an endeavor to 
obtain more. But the beans were not so easily 
dislodged and beyond a few cupfuls she pro- 
gressed slowly. 

With her appetite keen set Mrs. Bruin was 
not inclined to be annoyed overlong. She an- 
nounced .as much in a deep throated growl as 
the kettle slipped to the ground. Then her eyes 
lighted cunningly and she slowly dipped her 
nose into the kettle. It was not as hot as she 
feared, that is the beans on the surface, and as 


MRS. BRUIN PAYS A VISIT 299 


a Huge piece of pork just tickled Her nose sHe 
became desperate and witH a strong pusH 
sHoved Her Head tHrougH the opening and deep 
into tHe kettle. 

But if the beans on tHe surface Had cooled a 
Hit, tHose HeneatH were steaming Hot and witH a 
roar of pain the bear opened Her moutH and 
frantically tried to free Herself. Her sensitive 
nose was being cruelly burned and the kettle 
fitted tight. Had sHe worked gradually, using 
one of Her intelligent paws, and above all 
things Had kept Her mouth closed, the triangle 
of a face would Have been drawn forth. 

Being crazed by Her burns and now thor- 
oughly convinced it was a trap — as she should 
Have known from the man-smell — she lost all 
idea of cunning and rearing on Her Hind legs 
began a mad dance about the opening. 

‘‘She’s going into the fire!” cried Bub, His 
eyes distending at the unusual spectacle. 

His voice, coupled with Her imprisonment, 
now caused the bear to lose what little sense 
she possessed after first being trapped, and 
with a mighty spring she fulfilled Bub’s 
prophecy and landed in the smouldering em- 
bers. Her muffled roar was changed to a 
scream of anguish as she danced clear of the 
coals. With a frenzied effort she jumped to 


300 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 

one side, her head striking a tree a smashing 
blow and breaking the kettle. 

Finding herself free she gave another roar 
and plunged into the wood. 

Stanley had held his breath as their visitor 
hit the tree beside his head and he sighed deep 
in relief as he beheld her departing. 

‘‘She’s gone,” choked Bub. 

Stanley did not reply. His eyes were glued 
on to a piece of the kettle that had landed close 
beside him. 

“Why don’t you speak, Stanley! Did she 
step on you and kill you ! ’ ’ cried Bub. 

“No,” replied Stanley, not shifting his 
eyes. “I’m still alive. I am figuring on 
getting that piece of iron that is about six 
inches beyond my reach. ’ ’ 

“Roll over to it,” begged Bub, his face twist- 
ing to keep pace with Stanley’s efforts. 

“If I could have done that I would have 
rolled into the fire long ago,” panted Stanley. 
“They hitched one end of the rope to the tree.” 

“Go it, Stan! Go it,” pleaded Bub, puffing 
out his cheeks and straining at his bonds as if 
that would help his perspiring companion. 

“I — can’t — make — it,” groaned Stanley, 

ceasing his efforts. 

“Stanley Malcolm, you can make it,” re- 



She’s going into the fire ! ” cried Bub 

See page 2gg 



MRS. BRUIN PAYS A VISIT 301 


proached Bub. ‘‘I could make it if I bad your 
chance. Even Abner Whitten could make it. 
A cripple could make it! Get that chunk of 
iron!’’ 

With a sobbing moan Stanley threw himself 
madly forward, but instead of trying with his 
hands so shifted his position as to bring his 
face all but against it. 

‘‘NOW!’’ yelled Bub. “Get it!” 

And with a final effort Stanley stretched his 
neck another fraction of an inch and worried 
the iron within reach with his lips. Then he 
went limp, exhausted. 

But Bub was a hard taskmaster and he now 
urged, “Want them to return and kill us? Get 
busy with that iron. ’ ’ 

“I’d like to work for you by the week,” 
choked Stanley, fumbling the piece of 
metal between his fingers and assailing the 
rope. 

“Not that rope!” warned Bub. “What are 
you wasting your time on that one for?” 

“Who’s doing this?” muttered Stanley, in- 
creasing his efforts. “I’m tied to the tree, I 
tell you. I can’t come to you till I’m free.” 

“Forgive me, Stanley. But rush!” whim- 
pered Bub, now on the verge of hysteria as he 
really believed they stood a chance of escaping. 


302 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 

With repeated strokes Stanley severed the 
cord and then rolled rapidly to Bub’s feet. 

‘‘Can’t you loose your hands?” whispered 
Bub. 

Without replying Stanley brought his back 
against Bub’s legs and began cutting the rope. 

“Freeing my feet won’t free my hands,” re- 
minded Bub, his eyes now fixed in the direction 
taken by their captors. 

‘ ‘ Shut up ! ” muttered Stanley. ‘ ‘ Hold still ! ’ ’ 

“You’re cutting my leg,” timidly informed 
Bub. 

Stanley made no response but increased his 
frantic movements. At last Bub announced 
“My feet are free. What next?” 

“Curl them around me and help me to my 
feet,” panted Stanley. “I can’t reach the cord 
around my own feet and I can’t get to your 
arms unless you help me up.” 

Bub caught his idea instantly and after sev- 
eral trials aided Stanley to a standing position. 
Leaning back against Bub, Stanley then felt 
blindly for the cord holding the hands im- 
prisoned behind the tree trunk and sawed for 
his life. 

An occasional groan warned him he was nip- 
ping the flesh, but without halting he continued. 
It was sweet music in his ears as Bub half- 


MRS. BRUIN PAYS A VISIT 303 


screamed, ‘^YouVe done it, Stan. YonVe 
done it ! ’ ’ 

And in a few twists and turns he stepped 
clear of the tree. ‘‘Now give me that piece of 
iron,’’ he grimly demanded, his jaw squaring 
as he glanced over his shoulder, fearing the re- 
turn of the men even in their moment of vic- 
tory. 

“Knife in my pocket,” hoarsely whispered 
Stanley, completely exhausted by his exertions. 

In a second Bub had secured the knife and 
with three strokes was able to help Stanley to 
his feet. 

For a few moments the two could do nothing 
more than hobble into the woods, so benumbed 
were their limbs. Had the men returned at 
that time they would have found it easy to run 
the youths down. Repeated rubbing finally 
allowed of a slow, awkward gait, but freedom 
was sweet at any price and the youths could 
only evidence their joy by silent pressures of 
the hand. 

“Where to?” asked Bub, after they had 
placed a half a mile between them and the 
scene of their capture. 

“We’ll follow the men,” doggedly announced 
Stanley. “If they’ve got Abner we’ll make a 
try to release him.” 


304 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISEKS 


‘‘Good boy,” approved Bub, heartily. 
“That’s the way to talk. If they’ve captured 
Ab and find we’ve skipped they’ll never expect 
us to come around their camp; and we’ll snag 
Abner free or get caught ourselves. If I only 
had a rifle!” 

“I shall always feel kindly towards bears,” 
mused Stanley. 

“And baked beans,” thoughtfully added 
Bub. 

“Why! that reminds me,” gasped Stanley. 
“Why didn’t we think to take some of the pro- 
visions? We left blankets, food and every- 
thing.” And he halted irresolute. “Shall 
we go back and get them?” 

‘ ‘ What ! ’ ’ cried the horrified Bub. ‘ ‘ Go back 
there? Why, Stan, I’d die a hundred times out 
here in the woods first. You have a knife ; let’s 
cut two stout cudgels. They will be better than 
nothing. ’ ’ 

“That’s all I had when I hit Big Nick,” re- 
minded Stanley. “Then we can fasten the 
knife onto a pole and spear some fish. We 
won’t starve.” 

“I should say not,” cried Bub. “It’s easy 
to get food in the woods. The only thing that 
worries me is where we can find Abner. ’ ’ 

Stanley thought long and earnestly and then 


MRS. BRUIN PAYS A VISIT 305 


suggested, ‘‘Wouldn’t lie try to lead them from 
the camp, fearing they would find us? If so 
he’d beat down the river. He’d never go up 
stream as the ridge would hedge him on one 
side. Besides, he wouldn’t want to place the 
ridge between himself and us.” 

“That’s just what he would do,” heartily 
agreed Bub. “And, Stan, I must say I’m 
proud of you. You reason like a veteran 
woodsman. Not only would he go down stream 
to draw them from us, but also in a hope of 
meeting Noisy Charlie. 0 if he could only lead 
them within range of Charlie’s rifle. The 
Injun would bag every one of them.” 

Despite their earnest conversation they kept 
a keen watch as they stole along, pausing fre- 
quently to listen. Once Stanley thought he 
heard the report of a rifle, but could not tell in 
what direction of the woods. When sufficiently 
removed from the camp Bub climbed several 
trees, hoping to get some clue of their enemies. 
On one of these occasions a rabbit, pursued by 
a lynx, broke through the woods and ran across 
Stanley’s feet. Responding to his nerves he 
promptly emitted a yell that nearly caused Bub 
to lose his hold on his aerial perch. 

“Wh — what is it?” he faintly inquired, fear- 
ing his friend had been recaptured, yet loyally 


306 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


betraying bis own position in order to learn tbe 
worst. 

‘‘Nothing but a rabbit/^ answered Stanley, 
still trembling from his fright. “Hurry down. 
Another rabbit will scare me to death.” 

“You can’t let out many more yells like that 
last one without attracting some unwelcome 
callers,” warned Bub, eager to lead the way 
from the spot. 

“Would that sound carry far?” anxiously 
asked Stanley. 

“Big Nick would hear it a half a mile away 
easy,” frightened Bub. “But he might not 
know what it meant; especially as he believes 
we are prisoners.” 

Stanley again felt the strange sense of fear 
that had overcome him just before he was cap- 
tured. Clutching Bub ’s arm he whispered, 
“Let us conceal ourselves right here, some- 
where. My nerves are all shaken to pieces. I 
feel as if we were in great danger.” 

“That would be worse than foolish,” remon- 
strated Bub. “Let’s get away from here while 
we may.” 

But Stanley was firm. “I must have my 
way,” he whispered. “I feel as I did when 
alone in the woods; as I did when I woke up 
and found Big Nick standing by me. ’ ’ 


MKS. BEUIN PAYS A VISIT 807 


This startling bit of information caused 
Bnb’s hair to stir at the roots and he protested, 
‘^If you talk like that you’ll have me scared 
blue. Come, I’ll find a hiding place.” 

It took him but a moment to select an ideal 
spot for concealment. With a sigh of relief 
Stanley crawled in beside him, after which Bub 
carefully arranged the growing things so that 
no clue to their presence would be afforded a 
keen-eyed passerby. 

‘‘If Hatton ever gets me out on a job like this 
again it’ll be because I’m crazy,” softly whis- 
pered Bub. 

“Which reminds me,” as gently informed 
Stanley, “I’ve found the old record. The 
company wins if we can get clear of this coun- 
try.” 

“It’s no time for joking,” reproached Bub. 

“I am not joking. I have found what Abner 
sought,” earnestly assured Stanley. 

Bub’s eyes filled with tears. “Poor old 
Stan,” he snivelled. “It’s a shame. Don’t 
think any more about it, old fellow. You’ll 
feel better by and by. Try and go to sleep. 
You can rest your head on my shoulder.” 

“Do you think I’m crazy?” inquired the 
amazed Stanley. 

“No, no,” soothed Bub, to whom this seemed 


308 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 


the cruelest blow of all. ‘‘It’s all right. 
You’ve done fine. Now try to go to sleep.” 

“Bub Thomas, if you keep on talking in that 
creepy tone I will go insane in earnest,” 
snapped Stanley. “I’m not mad, you silly. I 
was trying to tell you what I found.” 

“Honest, Stan, do you mean it?” exclaimed 
Bub. 

“I tell you yes, a hundred times, yes,” re- 
peated Stanley, now becoming irritated. 

“Then you’ve made your everlasting for- 
tune, ’ ’ announced Bub in an awed voice. 

“If there is a fortune in it you and Abner 
and Charlie are equal partners,” said Stanley 
sharply. 

“But we didn’t find it?” 

“Well, you found me, didn’t you? Now keep 
still while I tell you. For if anything should 
happen to me and you get back you can tell 
Hatton.” 

He then proceeded to give Bub a full account 
of his adventure with the beech tree. The 
thing that impressed Bub the most was Stan- 
ley’s forethought in replacing the bark instead 
of bringing it into camp. 

“For if you had brought that with you the 
gang would have killed us off hand,” he de- 
clared firmly. 


MBS. BRUIN PAYS A VISIT 309 


‘‘I believe they would/’ admitted Stanley. 
‘‘I tried to do wbat I imagined you and Abner 
would have done. And reason whispered ‘Be 
careful.’ ” 

“Reason wouldn’t have whispered that to 
Bub Thomas,” firmly said Bub. “I’d let out a 
whoop you could have heard down at Umbagog 
and waving it on high I’d run to camp and 
plump into the accommodating arms of Joe and 
Pete and Ben — may they all reach state- 
prison.” 

“Hush!” hissed Stanley, pressing Bub’s 
arm. ‘ ‘ I hear something. ’ ’ 

Bub cocked his ear, but the wild throbbing of 
his heart deprived him of his usually keen 
sense of hearing. 

Before either could make a tell-tale move- 
ment, or utter a betraying sound, the under- 
growth just in front of their hiding place softly 
parted and they found themselves, staring into 
the swarthy face of Big Nick. 

Stanley’s lips were opened to utter a wild 
cry, but Bub ’s hand brought him to his senses. 
They were in deep shadows and the half-breed 
had not seen them. It was obvious he had 
heard something that had aroused his sus- 
picions, possibly Stanley’s outcry when fright- 
ened by the rabbit. Both knew he was there 


310 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CBUISEES 


for a purpose by the manner in which his burn- 
ing glance sought to penetrate the way ahead. 
After pausing for the fraction of a minute he 
disappeared as silently as he had come, and his 
path was towards the camp. 

‘‘He has learned we are prisoners and he’s 
going back to pay otf old scores,” shuddered 
Stanley. 

“That means he will strike our trail and be 
after us the minute he finds we have escaped,” 
warned Bub. “He’ll read the whole story of 
the bear and how we got free in a glance. 
Then he’ll be after us.” 

“How much leeway have we?” whispered 
Stanley. 

“Until he reaches the camp and takes his 
first look,” replied Bub. “Now it’s white- 
man’s woodcraft against an Injun’s. Come 
on.” 


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 


THE TWO SMOKES 

For the second time in his life Stanley ex- 
perienced the sensation of being pursued by an 
implacable foe. To Bub all was well as long 
as be could maintain bis lead; not so for bis 
companion. The very knowledge that the cool, 
mysterious depths of the forest contained a 
man grimly following bis trail unnerved the 
city bred youth in a degree, and although be be- 
lieved Big Nick could not discover their escape 
for some time, yet be repeatedly glanced 
over bis shoulder as if expecting to see the 
evil face. He began to appreciate bow the 
rabbit must have felt when chased by the 
lynx. 

Bub quickly understood bis friend’s mental 
plight and seizing him by the shoulder be 
whirled him about and drew him down on to a 
decayed log. 

“What is it?” asked Stanley in a perturbed 
voice. 

“Nothing; except we will wait here till you 
get your nerve back,” calmly replied Bub, care- 
si i 


312 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CKUISERS 


fully shaping the handle of his club more to his 
liking. 

‘‘But we are wasting valuable time, precious 
time,’’ expostulated Stanley, starting to rise. 

“We’re wasting time when you keep peeking 
back over your shoulder,” said Bub. “We’ll 
rest till you’re the same Mister Malcolm that 
had brains enough to hide the strip of beech 
bark and who was more level-headed than I 
was when we were tied up in camp. Now, my 
son, take this to heart: you are just as safe 
here, now, as that young spruce. Our dan- 
ger doesn’t commence till Nick learns the 
truth.” 

“But we should use that time in escaping,” 
protested Stanley. 

“Not the way you’ve been escaping,” 
sharply corrected Bub. “You’re not escaping 
when you leave a swath of broken bushes, up- 
turned stones, and heavy footprints in every 
dead log you come to. Look back there for 
fifteen feet. It looks as if a cyclone had passed 
here. Why, even a cow could follow us. Now, 
if you’re going on in that way, we might as well 
wait here and put up a fight before we’re ex- 
hausted.” 

“I’ll be more careful,” promised Stanley, 
humbly. 


THE TWO SMOKES 


313 


‘‘You think, then, you are ready to go on in 
a sane manner queried Bub. 

Stanley smiled in a sickly fashion, and Bub 
slowly closed his knife and rose to his feet. 
“All right; we’ll strike otf. A quarter of a 
mile between us and Nick, after we’ve moved 
carefully, is better than ten miles of that kind 
of blazing. ’ ’ And he pointed in huge disgust at 
the obvious traces of their flight. 

“To begin with,” continued Bub, “we’ll turn 
at right angles and double back towards Flat- 
top. Nick will follow us to this point on the 
run and will take it for granted we were pointed 
down stream, as we were. After we’ve gone 
back a half a mile we’ll turn again and go in 
our original direction, perhaps following the 
stream quite closely.” 

Having learned his little lesson Stanley 
pressed his lips together firmly and endeavored 
to imitate his companion’s deliberate mode of 
traveling. To his relief he soon found the old 
fear deserting him and it was seldom that he 
looked back. 

Although seeming to proceed aimlessly Bub 
in reality was exercising all the tricks of his 
craft, just as he would wish Abner to know he 
was doing. He bowed low and passed under, not 
through, obstructing boughs and dry limbs. He 


314 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


stepped over, not on, the decaying logs, and his 
feet were careful not to leave a stone with the 
moss side downward. When encountering a 
small dead pool he took great care to skirt it 
at a sufficient distance to leave no footprints. 
After an hour of this kind of work he threw 
himself on a carpet of pine needles for a brief 
rest. 

‘‘How much farther do we go in this direc- 
tion?’’ inquired Stanley. 

“Only a short way. Just as soon as we 
clear this growth and find some hard wood I’ll 
climb a tree and get our bearings more exactly. 
Mister Nick will be puzzled, I opine, to decide 
where we vanished to.” 

“He may think we made a broad trail pur- 
posely,” suggested Stanley. 

“I hope so ; he’ll be giving us credit for more 
brains than we possess,” grinned Bub. “No 
matter what he thinks it won’t help him any 
when it comes to picking up our trail.” 

Emerging from the black growth Bub quickly 
climbed a large beech and studied the country 
for fully a minute in silence. When he de- 
scended he briskly announced, “No smoke any- 
where. I’ve come a bit farther north than I 
had intended to, but not enough to make any 
great difference. We’re quite near the river. 


THE TWO SMOKES 


315 


In fact, I’m striking it too high np. If I thought 
there was any chance of finding a rifle in the 
scoundrels’ camp by the river I’d rick cruis- 
ing over there and making a try.” 

^‘They wouldn’t leave their guns behind,” 
opposed Stanley, who had no desire to encoun- 
ter the villains. 

As they were leaving the hard wood growth 
both experienced a fright when a flying squirrel 
passed over their heads in gliding from a maple 
to a stunted oak. 

Bub looked sheepish as he apologized, ‘‘It’s 
no wonder it scared you, but I ought not to have 
budged an inch. Guess I jumped three feet.” 

“I could look over your head, so I must have 
jumped higher,” consoled Stanley. “The 
squirrel reminds me I haven’t had anything to 
eat since yesterday noon. I’m faint.” 

Bub puckered his brows thoughtfully and 
admitted, “I feel empty under the belt, too. 
Wonder if you could manage to eat raw par- 
tridge % ’ ’ 

“No, no,” protested Stanley, making a face. 

“Then you can stand it a while longer. A 
man isn’t starving till he can eat raw meat.” 

“I could eat with a relish a whole partridge 
if we had it and it was cooked,” insisted Stan- 
ley. 


316 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


‘‘Most any man could/’ smiled Bub. “Per- 
haps we could run the risk of a small blaze 
at that. I could pick out some sticks that 
would make practically no smoke. Now, keep 
quiet and we’ll see if we don’t run across a 
booby.” And he fingered his club eagerly. 

Not many rods had been passed before Bub 
suddenly let his club fly and then darted after 
it with a low cry of triumph. He had knocked 
over a fine cock and by the time Stanley joined 
him he was finishing cleaning the bird. 

“Now for a blaze, a very small one,” he re- 
joiced. “Hi! not the pine. I’ve told you once 
that pine is a smoker. Let me do it while you 
cut some green sticks, alders will do, for toast- 
ing forks. ’ ’ 

Under his careful manipulation a small bed 
of coals soon awaited their game. By the aid 
of several rocks he arranged the sticks so as to 
allow the divided bird to broil over the coals. 

“We could hold them easier and cook the 
meat better,” criticised Stanley. 

“We could if we were to be here,” agreed 
Bub. “But now that dinner is cooking we’ll 
move back into the woods and hide up. Then 
if any of the blood-thirsty rascals should creep 
up to the fire they wouldn’t find us at home. 
That clump of cedar bushes will do, only be 


THE TWO SMOKES 317 

careful and not dig np the ground with your 
boots when you crawl under.” 

To Stanley’s impatient mind it seemed that 
they had waited many minutes before Bub gave 
the signal to emerge. “You stay here,” he 
whispered and I’ll fetch the dinner. Then we 
can eat as we walk along.” 

In a short time Bub was back, triumphantly 
carrying the half-cooked partridge on a 
piece of birch bark. “Sorry we haven’t 
any napkins,” whimsically apologized the 
cook. 

“If I had one I’d eat it,” declared Stanley. 
“Please give me my share.” 

“There you are, my son, only don’t bolt your 
victuals,” cautioned Bub. 

Stanley examined his portion with his nose 
wrinkling in disgust. “Why, it’s covered with 
ashes,” he complained. “And part of it isn’t 
cooked at all. ’ ’ 

“It is rather rare in spots,” admitted Bub, 
taking a mouthful. “But it will keep us alive 
for a while. By this time to-morrow you’d be 
glad to eat the whole bird, feathers and all. 
Why don’t you try? Things are never as bad 
as they look.” 

“This is; it’s worse,” grimaced Stanley, 
nibbling at a charred morsel. “Why! Bub, it 


318 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISERS 


doesn’t taste like the other partridge. Are you 
sure it isn’t some poisonous bird?” 

Buh chuckled heartily. ‘‘It’s because it isn’t 
seasoned. It is fresh, I’ll confess. If we had 
a little salt it would help it along wonderfully. ’ ’ 

“I can’t eat any of it,” decided Stanley, 
about to toss it away. 

“Yes, you can,” drawled Bub. “Think I’m 
going to kill game out of season, build a fire and 
run the risk of being murdered only to have 
you find fault with my cooking ? Eat, my son. ’ ’ 

Stanley obeyed, smiling faintly, and found 
that while the fowl was fresh it was not impos- 
sible as food and before he knew it he had de- 
voured all the meat that even hinted at being 
cooked. 

“If we’re at liberty by nightfall I’ll broil you 
a squirrel. It’ll go better,” encouraged Bub. 

“Or we might catch some fish,” eagerly 
added Stanley. 

“You’re planning out a regular hotel din- 
ner,” condemned Bub. “Besides, a fresh 
water fish, with no seasoning, is about the 
freshest thing you ever tackled. It’s worse 
than partridge, for the bird lives on buds and 
the like and are sort of gamy even when eaten 
without salt. But a fish is just wishywashy. 
There isn’t any expression to unseasoned fish.” 


THE TWO SMOKES 


319 


More tree climbing now followed, Bub exam- 
ining tbe direction of tbeir camp as well as tbe 
ground ahead. ‘‘Not that I expect to see any 
signs of Nick,’’ he explained, “but there might 
be one chance in a thousand that I could spy 
him on a ledge or in a tree. ’ ’ 

“Will he climb trees?” cried Stanley. 

“I never patented the idea,” grinned Bub. 
“You must realize, my son, that by this time 
Mister Nick is very busy trying to find us.” 

“In other words we are again in the zone of 
danger,” sighed Stanley. 

“Yes, if you mean by that we are being 
hunted,” replied Bub. Then in deep admira- 
tion, “My, but I wish I could talk as you do, 
Stan. An education is a wonderful thing.” 

“You have improved a million per cent 
already,” encouraged Stanley, speaking most 
sincerely. 

“Do you really think so?” eagerly pressed 
Bub. 

“I know so,” returned Stanley, firmly. 
“You are as well educated as I am — better. 
You had certain loose habits of speech because 
you have lived with careless men. But you 
have no idea how you have dropped that habit. 
By the time we reach the mills you’ll be giving 
me pointers.” 


320 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 


Bub scornfully refuted this, but was im- 
mensely pleased, nevertheless. The ground 
now began to descend and Bub’s face took on a 
worried look. ‘‘I hate to strike a swamp, or 
even moderate low land,” he explained as he 
caught Stanley’s inquiring eyes. ‘‘At this 
time of the year it will be wet and leave a trail 
like an open book. Wait, I’ll climb a tree and 
see if there’s a way around it.” 

He studied both sides of their course long 
and earnestly, but was compelled to announce : 
“The swamp runs from the river far inland. 
If not for meeting Nick we could beat back 
and go around it on the ridge. But that is too 
much of a risk and we must chance it straight 
ahead.” 

“We could take to the river. We have the 
canoe,” reminded Stanley. 

“Yes, if we wanted to escape from this re- 
gion. But we’re out to find Abner,” said Bub. 

“Never for a moment did I think of leaving 
here till we had found him,” warmly declared 
Stanley. “I thought we might take to the 
canoe and drop down below the swamp. ’ ’ 

Bub shook his head. “No go,” he discour- 
aged. “They’d pick us off inside of a mile 
after we’d landed, for they’re hugging the 
shore to keep Abnor inland. Our only chance 


THE TWO SMOKES 


321 


with the canoe would he to wait for night and 
try to shoot down in the darkness. Chances 
are we’d be spilled at that.” 

Lack of food and loss of sleep, together with 
their steady flight through the woods, was now 
beginning to tell painfully on both and mid-day 
found each little inclined to talk and walking 
doggedly. 

At last Stanley gave a low cry of relief and 
threw himself on his face at the edge of the 
swamp. 

‘ ‘ Hi, what are you up to T ’ demanded Bub, in 
a low voice. And he pulled his companion 
back. 

want a drink. I’m all parched up,” said 
Stanley. ‘‘For the last few hours all I 
could think of was springs of clear cold 
water. ’ ’ 

“That’s nothing,” sniffed Bub. “I’ve been 
doing the same thing, only I thought of it in 
rivers. But you mustn’t drink this.” 

“Is it poison?” asked Stanley, his face fall- 
ing. 

“Not poison,” returned Bub. “The waters 
in Maine are not poison, not any of them. But 
this isn’t what you’d call wholesome. It 
wouldn’t kill you, but it might make you sick. 
Of course there isn’t as much chance for that 


322 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


as there is later in the season, but we’d better 
drink of the best so long as we can. ’ ’ 

^‘But where is the best?” eagerly inquired 
Stanley, still eying the silent pool lovingly. 

‘‘Right here, after I’ve put in my filter 
plant,” explained Bub, beginning to dig a hole 
near the swamp. 

“A well, eh?” mused Stanley. “Will you 
have time to finish it?” 

“It’ll be done in a minute. Here, take the 
stick and go at it. Then I’ll spell you. I 
won’t try to polish it off as I would if we were 
to stop here.” 

Their united efforts soon resulted in quite an 
excavation and Stanley was surprised to see it 
fill with water. Only the water was muddy; 
and he observed, “That’s worse than the other. 
I’d rather drink from this little stream that’s 
trickling away.” 

“That little stream is filling our well,” re- 
plied Bub. ‘ ‘ The original water won ’t kill you, 
but it would be like drinking a menagerie. 
Now we’ll bail this out.” And using his hat 
he soon emptied his small cistern. 

Stanley was again surprised to observe the 
hole fill up with much clearer water, water that 
looked inviting. And without waiting for it to 
settle he leaned over and drank deeply. 


THE TWO SMOKES 


323 


‘^The first thing about Maine water,’’ in- 
formed Bub, after refreshing himself, ‘4s that 
it’s cool. That helps a lot. And I never 
heard of any spring or stream up here that by 
nature is dangerous to drink. Of course a 
river is filled with typhoid fever germs where 
city sewers empty into it, but any stream that’s 
not been poisoned by man will never poison 
man in this state. Now, let’s be going.” 

Nearly two hours were consumed in crossing 
the swamp, the youths often floundering up to 
their waists. Bub evidenced a fear of striking 
a deep hole and warned Stanley they must keep 
within helping distance of each other. Stan- 
ley replied with stories of quicksands he had 
read and Bub’s apprehension was increased to 
a high pitch before firmer footing announced 
they were leaving the mud and muck. 

“Ain’t we a sight?” puffed Bub, as he halted 
and scraped the mire from his legs. 

“I’ll wait till my mud dries,” shrewdly de- 
cided Stanley. “Then it will come off easier. 
I guess Big Nick could follow that part of our 
trail all right.” 

“It will close up as smooth as ever in a short 
time,” said Bub. “Now, we’ll enjoy decent 
going.” 

“I’m thirsty, awfully thirsty,” muttered 


324 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CKUISERS 


Stanley. “But I don’t want to delay long 
enough to dig another well.” 

“We won’t have to,” cheered Bub. “Up 
there I see an Indian cucumber plant that’ll 
answer nicely.” And he pointed ahead into 
the woods. 

Stanley curiously examined the slender stem, 
some two feet in height and girdled with leaves 
surmounted by more leaves and blue berries. 

“See, it grows horizontally,” said Bub, pull- 
ing it up. ‘^Try it.” Stanley did so eagerly 
and found it deliciously cooling. Bub found 
several more and before proceeding they had 
quenched their thirst. 

“You can always find it in low woods,” re- 
minded Bub. “You fix it up with salt and pep- 
per and serve it with trout and it’s better than 
the real cucumber for me.” 

“What a wonderful place is the wood,” mur- 
mured Stanley. “And what a wonderful thing 
is nature. I never realized until I came to 
Maine that one could get food in the wilderness 
unless he shot or caught it.” 

‘ ‘ In other words you never stopped to realize 
that everything we eat and wear springs from 
nature,” smiled Bub. “That’s because you’ve 
lived in the city, where everything you see is 
artificial. Your druggist sells you some medi- 


THE TWO SMOKES 


325 


cine, which may he nothing more or less than 
this little Canadian snake root, which finds a 
ready market.” And he pulled up a small 
plant and held it at arm’s length. ‘‘Back there 
at the swamp we made our way through the 
northern scouring rush, those three and four- 
footers you got so impatient with. A city chap*’ 
coming up here to camp out would probably 
bring along soaps and scouring powders, not 
knowing that that rush is one of the best scour- 
ers and polishers you can find or buy. Why 
Stanley, the woods and fields are just filled with 
plants and herbs that will cure you of sickness 
or keep you from starving. We used beech 
leaves for your sprain after using the profes- 
sor’s liniment. The leaves alone would have 
fixed you all right. Now say you had inflam- 
mation; then we’d used that plant over there. 
It’s nothing hut common mullen, and you can 
always find it in an open spot. Noisy Charlie 
could doctor you for almost any illness just 
from what he knows of plants.” 

“I take off my hat to the Maine woods,” 
humbly declared Stanley. “Instead of being a 
play-ground, or a lumber center I can now 
appreciate they are the backbone of the state. 
Everything depends upon them; water, food 
and clothing. But while I’ve been day-dream- 


326 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISEKS 


mg over this endless fairy-book you’ve been 
opening for me I’m reminded now to ask, What 
of Nick?” 

Bub frowned. ‘‘It’s time I was thinking of 
him,” he admitted. “Wait till I shin up this 
tree. I can get a good look at our back trail.” 

Swarming up the trunk he paused but a 
second before he quickly slid back again. “I 
saw something move the rushes on the edge of 
the swamp,” he whispered, his eyes suddenly 
dilating. “Let’s leg it.” 

“Now, wait a bit, Mr. Thomas,” calmly com- 
manded Stanley. “We’ll leg it, as you so 
elegantly put it, only after we ’ve decided where 
we are going and why we are going. Be calm, 
my son, and get back your nerve before rush- 
ing away.” 

“It’s Nick, I know it is,” hurriedly whis- 
pered Bub, for some strange reason changing 
places with Stanley and now becoming the one 
to be calmed and encouraged. “He’ll kill both 
of us.” 

“Possibly,” agreed Stanley, surprised at 
himself as he failed to find any symptoms of 
nervousness in his system. “But he won’t bag 
us while we are madly dashing in line with his 
gun. We’ll have something to say about 


THE TWO SMOKES 327 

dying.’’ Then sharply, ‘^Come, get yourself 
together. Brace up!” 

^‘Stanley, you’re the better man of the two, 
even in the woods,” earnestly declared Bub, 
squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw. 
‘^You were nervous because it was new to you. 
You conquered that feeling. It was old to me 
and I pitied you; then I turn around and give 
way to it. I’m worse than a coward.” 

‘‘Honestly, Bub, I believe that if I’d started 
in to show the white feather you’d have been 
as you were this morning,” soothed Stanley. 
“When one’s down the other is up, it seems.” 

“I had no business to lose my nerve,” bit- 
terly cried Bub. “Come, let’s be moving. 
We’ll have to double to the east and leave no 
trail. If he picks up the traces where we quit 
the swamp he’ll believe we are striking dead 
ahead. ’ ’ 

The afternoon sun was now casting long 
shadows across every opening while the warm 
rays occasionally caressed their backs as they 
silently fled before it. Tattling crows over- 
head cawed derisively at the two bowed figures 
and seemed to take a malicious delight in keep- 
ing pace with them and calling out to other wild 
kin that here were fugitives. 


328 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


‘‘Big Nick will know where we are because 
of those blamed crows,” growled Stanley. 

Bub halted and sounded the note of the owl 
and the nuisance faded away, only the sullen 
flapping of their wings indicating their course. 

“If you could only drive all enemies away as 
easily,” panted Stanley. 

“Whew! Let’s rest,” said Bub, wiping the 
sweat from his brow. “If I’d known I was to 
be chased all over northwestern Maine by mur- 
derers I’d asked Hatton to raise my pay two 
dollars a week. I think it’s worth it.” And 
he grinned lamely. 

“How much daylight will we have?” 
anxiously asked Stanley. 

“In the woods here it will get dark early. 
Out of the woods we’d have the sun till about 
seven thirty-three. Then we have the moon till 
past midnight.” 

“Do we travel, or do we camp?” 

“We’ll take one more try from a tree top 
for the campfire of those scoundrels,” slowly 
decided Bub. ‘ ‘ Then we might as well rest up 
and cook some boobies. We can’t get through 
to-morrow without food. And this chasing 
through the woods doesn’t help us to find 
Abner.” 

“I don’t see as we can stand much chance of 


THE TWO SMOKES 


329 


finding him unless he’s captured and his cap- 
tors’ smoke tells where he is,” pondered Stan- 
ley. 

Bub nodded an affirmation and slouching his 
hat over his tired eyes staggered forward. As 
the black growth was interrupted by a patch of 
budding red maples he turned and frankly con- 
fessed, ‘‘I’m ashamed to say it; but I’m that 
tuckered I wish you’d do the climbing. All you 
have to do is to shin up to the branches, then 
get up as far as they’ll hold you and sweep the 
horizon, first for a smoke, then for mountains. 
We’ve heard no guns and I hardly think Abner 
has been caught.” 

“He had no food and if Big Nick got on his 
trail he would have no chance to eat or drink,” 
reminded Stanley. “I fear he’s too old to last 
out against Nick. Anyway, I’ll do the climb- 
ing.” 

Arriving at the top Stanley first examined 
the back trail, despite Bub’s warning to look 
first for a smoke. He was thrown into a 
tumult to notice a rustling in the top of a maple 
a few rods back, and then sheepishly realized 
it was nothing but the wind. 

Turning his eyes to the west he found that 
the low hanging sun blinded him till he learned 
the trick of properly shading his eyes. 


330 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISEES 


‘‘I can see nothing,’’ he called down to Buh. 

‘‘Then descend,” directed Bub. 

“Hold! As I live, I can make out a thin 
streamer of smoke!” 

“Point in which direction,” cried Buh. 

“Directly in the path of the setting sun,” in- 
formed Stanley. ‘ ‘ That is why I did not make 
it out at first.” 

“Hurry, hurry. We must make for it and 
learn the true situation, ’ ’ urged Bub. 

“Why, Bub, I can make out two streamers of 
smoke, very near together, yet distinct. Ah! 
one is dying out now. Now there is only one.” 

“Hump yourself, Stan! They’ve caught 
Abner!” yelled Buh, regardless of any danger 
in the rear. “They’ve nailed him and he’s 
managed to start a blaze near their campfire, 
hoping we’d see it. It’s the two smokes, mean- 
ing he’s in trouble. They caught him at it and 
put out his smoke. But they were not quite 
quick enough. Now, my son, if ever you hustled 
and acted the part of a woodsman now is the 
time for you to distinguish yourself.” 

“Take the lead,” grimly directed Stanley, 
tightening his belt to the last notch. “You’ll 
find me at your heels. We’ll rescue Abner, or 
give ourselves up as prisoners.” 


CHAPTER NINETEEN 


HOW ABNER FARED 

On leaving the two boys Abner bad no defi- 
nite purpose of making any extensive investiga- 
tion of the enemies’ stronghold. Disgusted 
with bis failure, gloomy because of the 
rain and hungry for some of Noisy Charlie’s 
cooking be felt much out of sorts and plunged 
into the wet woods to relieve bis feelings. 

But as be proceeded and drew nearer the 
strange camp bis old curiosity as a cruiser re- 
turned and be speedily forgot bis damp cloth- 
ing and wet feet. At times be believed be could 
smell the acrid reek of the burning wood, and, 
baiting, would snitf the air keenly. 

Possibly be had covered two-tbirds of the dis- 
tance when with bis mind on the camp and be- 
lieving the strangers would not be abroad in the 
storm be stepped boldly into a small glade and 
found himself staring into the surprised eyes 
of Big Nick, only eight or ten rods away. If 
the half-breed recovered bis presence of mind 
in a second be was a shade behind Abner, who 
:witb one spring vanished into the woods. The 

331 


332 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 


half-breed knew he now had a foeman worthy 
of his cunning and would have hesitated to 
stalk his aged foe if not for the knowledge that 
the cruiser had no rifle. And following 
Abner’s example he gained the cover of the 
forest noiselessly. 

Then commenced a strange game of hide and 
seek. Abner would not retreat in any straight 
line, as he knew he must keep from the other’s 
keen view. If exposed for only the fraction of 
a second he realized the half-breed would shoot, 
and shoot straight. Thus for nearly an hour he 
passed like a shadow from tree to tree, never 
seeing his pursuer and remaining unseen in 
turn. Yet each sensed the other’s presence and 
realized that at times they were near neighbors. 
The dripping of the rain, the croak of a frog in 
some nearby pool, the occasional note of some 
songster in the open, as the sun threatened to 
return and flood the wood and heights with 
warmth, were the only sounds to be heard in 
the narrow compass of their dodgings and 
twistings. 

The one idea in Abner’s mind was to remain 
concealed till night should blanket his move- 
ments ; then he must silently make his camp and 
warn the youths. On the other hand he was 
continually tormented by a fear that one of the 


HOW ABNEE FAEED 


333 


boys would set out after bim, or by some lack 
of caution advertise tbeir presence. In that 
event be must adopt a different programme and 
lead bis foe away towards tbe river. Had be 
known, as be glided from busb to trunk, from 
rock to clump of cedar, that already Bub was a 
prisoner and that Stanley was about to fall into 
tbe same clutches it is probable that be could 
bave escaped tbe balf-breed. 

But bis camp was tbe magnet that held bim 
biding about one small circle, ever hoping for 
an opportunity to fly off at a tangent and res- 
cue bis young friends from possible capture. 
This mode of procedure puzzled tbe balf- 
breed. It resulted in bis overestimating tbe 
prowess of bis opponent. He feared that 
Abner might be armed with a revolver, or be 
planning some coup by which be would win tbe 
victory. Because of this error tbe balf-breed 
did not press matters as be otherwise might 
bave done. Had be known that bis white 
friends bad captured Stanley and Bub be would 
bave understood tbe cruiser’s maneuvers and 
would bave governed himself accordingly. 

Thus tbe two passed back and forth, now 
seeming to lose an advantage, now believing 
one was gained. At last tbe shadows thickened 
and drawing a deep breath Abner dropped to 


334 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISEKS 


the ground and with incredible quickness and 
quietness wormed his way some distance 
towards his camp. Then half rising he took 
advantage of a dense growth, skirting it so as 
to place a barrier between him and Big Nick. 
It was some minutes before the half-breed 
realized the cruiser had changed his tactics and 
was trying to break away. Even then he hesi- 
tated to follow, fearing some subterfuge of the 
white man. 

By the time he had circled the woods and had 
decided upon the general direction taken by 
Abner the latter was speeding like the wind for 
camp. As he neared it, he slowed his pace 
from habitual caution and for several seconds 
studied the back trail. Even if the half-breed 
should appear now he believed he could decoy 
him away from the camp, providing the youths 
in no way revealed their presence. But the 
half-breed was some distance back in the forest 
and finally Abner stole ahead. 

As he reached the beginning of the clearing 
where the camp was pitched he thought he 
heard voices. Suspicious of all he did not 
quickly understand, he resumed his former 
secrecy of movements and stole forward as 
stealthily as if reconnoitering the camp on the 
river. 


HOW ABNEE FAEED 


335 


He groaned half aloud as his quick eyes 
caught the form of Bub tied to the tree and 
then beheld Stanley also a prisoner. Could he 
have exchanged places with his companions he 
would have done so gladly, let the price be what 
it might. As it was he was unarmed, with a 
deadly enemy dogging his tracks. Although he 
could not etfect the youths’ release he believed 
the half-breed as yet knew nothing of their cap- 
ture. This being so it was still possible for 
him to lead Big Nick far down the river. He 
did not believe the white men would seriously 
injure the boys, and once he had succeeded in 
decoying the half-breed down stream he might 
find a way to double back and effect their re- 
lease. 

Nor did he forget to figure as a possible asset 
— even as Bub and Stanley had shrewdly antici- 
pated — a meeting with Noisy Charlie. 

ain’t even got a jack-knife,” he groaned 
as he found he had left that important article 
beside the slab of bacon in camp. 

Then fearful of Nick’s arriving and discover- 
ing his friends and the two prisoners Abner 
shook a withered fist at the trio of scoundrels 
and darted back to meet and divert the half- 
breed. Impelled by a fear that he had been in- 
strumental in bringing the half-breed and the 


336 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


youths face to face he spurned all caution for 
the first half of a mile and dashed along reck- 
lessly. At last he paused and wiped his flushed 
face and began to hope that perhaps he was in 
time after all. 

Ahead some old growth pine towered more 
than a hundred and fifty feet towards the 
heavens. It was a wonderful spectacle even 
for such an experienced woodsman as Abner 
and at another time he would have stared long 
and longingly. Just now he could think only 
of the youths’ danger and the ancient pines 
interested him in but one particular. They 
afforded a long range of vision. One could 
look down their majestic aisles for a great dis- 
tance with the gaze unobstructed by any under- 
growth. It was as if he were in an immense 
cathedral. 

As he searched his imposing surroundings 
his pulse beat a trifle quicker. It seemed as if 
he had caught a glimpse of a shadow flitting 
from trunk to trunk far ahead. 

‘Mf that’s Nick I guess I’ll stick pretty close 
to this five-foot trunk,” he murmured. After 
he’s passed I’ll let him know I’m here. But, 
by jing! this is a bad place to dodge a man 
armed with a rifle. ’ ’ And he surveyed the wide 
open places, the smooth carpet of pine needles, 
in dismay. 


HOW ABNEE FAEED 


337 


However, Abner Whitten was not one to 
count the costs when aiding a friend and he 
drew himself np against the trunk and became 
motionless. Almost before he could sense it 
Big Nick passed him, seeming to move on 
wings, so noiseless were his moccasined feet. 
With equal stealth Abner revolved around the 
tree, keeping the trunk between him and his 
pursuer. It would not do to give a tell-tale 
sign of his presence just yet ; again, he was in 
an agony of fear that the half-breed would de- 
tect the camp if allowed to advance much far- 
ther. 

‘‘Wal, if it’s got to be done, here goes.” 
With this desperate exclamation he quickly 
darted along his avenue of retreat some dis- 
tance before allowing a dry branch to crackle 
under his foot. 

As if worked by mechanism the half-breed 
wheeled and raised his rifle. There was noth- 
ing to be seen. Vanishing behind a tree trunk 
he crept tiger like towards the unexplained 
sound. As he did so his bead-like eyes caught 
a fleeting glimpse of a human form flashing 
from view. Uttering a guttural note of 
triumph he cocked his rifle and sped towards 
the point where his proposed victim had dis- 
appeared. His next note was one of rage, for 
as. he believed he had the veteran cruiser at his 


338 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


mercy and was gloating as he pictured him 
crouching helpless behind the tree just in front, 
another stick snapped otf to the left and again 
he was afforded a glimpse of a disappearing 
form. 

He knew it was Abner. No one else in that 
neighborhood could so escape him, and baring 
his strong teeth in a snarl he set himself to 
work to run down this will-o’-the-wisp. He 
began by running with the speed of a deer 
towards the point where he last saw his prey. 
He now was convinced that the cruiser was un- 
armed. Believing this he devoted all his ener- 
gies to overtaking the fugitive. 

But Abner seemed as evasive as a whip-po’- 
will. He could be seen just for a second and 
occasionally heard, but there was no drawing 
near enough to shoot him. The half-breed had 
the advantage in years and strength and could 
make three feet to Abner’s one, but the veteran 
had the advantage of being in the lead. He 
was called upon to waste no time in deciding 
what course he should take ; to the contrary the 
half-breed was often puzzled which way to turn. 
He usually discovered the right direction by a 
timely view of Abner’s back. But so soon as 
he arrived at that point he would sight his 
quarry far off to one side. Once he cunningly 


HOW ABNER FARED 


339 


endeavored to anticipate sncli zigzag maneu- 
vers by running parallel to the line be believed 
Abner would follow. But this time Abner, as 
if possessing the power to read his pursuer’s 
mind, held on straight ahead and gained a great 
distance. 

The half-breed was convulsed with rage as 
scheme after scheme proved of no avail. To do 
his best he could only catch an occasional 
glimpse of the fleeing man, and never one suffi- 
cient to warrant a shot. Sometimes he sus- 
pected Abner was playing with him, and the 
thought was maddening. A dozen times he 
halted and raised his rifle, intending to shoot 
the moment the cruiser should show an inch of 
his person. In each instance Abner flashed 
into view in an unexpected quarter and was 
gone before the trigger could be pulled. 

These repeated failures washed everything 
from the half-breed’s mind except his desire to 
kill the cruiser. He even forgot his grudge 
against the youths in his passion to prove he 
was a better woodsman than this stoop-shoul- 
dered man, so nimbly evading him at every 
turn. 

The old-growth now gave way to a tangle of 
smaller evergreens and Big Nick cursed fluently 
under his breath as he realized he had lost a 


340 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 


golden opportunity. His only hope now lay in 
running the old man down. If he could tire 
him out he would have him at his mercy. He 
redoubled his efforts as he noted Abner’s course 
was ever towards Briar stream. This led him 
to deduce that Abner was making for a canoe 
and had hopes of escaping him by water. It 
might also mean that in the canoe was a rifle; 
for it must be remembered Big Nick as yet 
knew nothing of the boys or their camp. 

This last theory seemed very plausible to 
him and he made directly for the stream, in- 
tending to follow down its bank and intercept 
Abner, or overtake him before he could arm 
himself. 

But from that moment Abner, for the night 
at least, was lost to him. Had he known that 
the veteran was exhausted from his fearful ex- 
ertions and need of food he would have rested 
easier. Not knowing this he prowled along the 
river, made detours through the silent woods, 
and in every way sought to locate his victim. 

It was just as he was giving up his search 
and was about to retreat to the camp up 
stream, his heart filled with bitter rage, that 
Big Nick again sighted his prey. Abner, lame 
and sore from his night in the woods, was pain- 
fully limping, not down stream, but back to- 


HOW ABNER FARED 


341 


wards Flat-top. Apparently lie believed he 
had fooled his pursuer and was now beating 
back to aid his friends. 

With a hoarse cry of joy Nick renewed his 
pursuit. Again some mysterious power told 
Abner he was being chased, and fighting off his 
stiffness he renewed his tactics of yesterday. 
But the half-breed rejoiced as he observed the 
veteran was not moving with his usual spright- 
liness. More than once the rifle was sighted, 
only to be lowered with a cruel smile as Nick 
decided he had the game in his own hands and 
preferred to play with his man as a cat tor- 
ments a mouse. 

When Abner realized this fact, his mouth set 
in stern lines. He was exhausted and must be 
captured, he told himself. It simply remained 
to see how far he could lead the dark-faced 
foe from the neighborhood of the camp. 

‘H’d give anything if only Charlie could pop 
out and take charge of this affair, ^ ’ he groaned 
as his foot twisted and a sharp pain shot up 
his leg. 

It was at this juncture that by a desperate 
effort he appeared imbued with the strength 
and elasticity of youth, and heedless of his 
aching ankle led the half-breed a furious chase 
for nearly a fourth of a mile. Enraged, and 


342 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


believing that be bad been tricked by a cunning 
counterfeit of exhaustion, be raised bis gun and 
fired, just as Abner gave up tbe figbt and fell 
face downward. It was then that tbe long- 
drawn-out cry was sounded and was beard 
by tbe men about to sit down to tbeir break- 
fast. 

Several repetitions of tbe cry at last brought 
Pete, Ben and Joe to tbe spot and they swore 
roundly that Big Nick was tbe greatest man- 
tracker in tbe woods. 

‘‘And to think we’ve got ’em all. Hey, old 
bound?” and Pete struck bis bat into Abner’s 
face. 

“I’ll see ye behind an iron grating fer that, 
my lad, ’ ’ informed Abner in a low voice. 

“Ye will, eb?” grinned Pete. “Wal, ye’ll 
have an eyesight that will look from a grave up 
here way down to tbe city then. ’ ’ 

Big Nick was standing like a piece of stone, 
bis nostrils dilated. “You say all?” be asked, 
bis deep voice trembling in its eagerness. 

“Sure. We’ve got tbe kids trussed up at tbe 
southeast end of Flat-Top. Found ’em in camp 
there.” 

Big Nick turned to Abner, bis eyes glittering 
evilly. “You dog me away so I no find um. I 
pay you for that.” 


HOW ABNER FARED 


343 


Ye ’ll do mighty well to pay fer yer own 
debts, ye black-hearted skunk!” shouted Abner. 

course I dogged ye from them. Hi, ye fel- 
lers. D’ye know I’ve had this poor fool on the 
string all yesterday afternoon and all night. 
If I hadn’t hurt my ankle I’d be fooling him 
now. And me an old man with no weapon. 
That’s the kind of a cur he is. He couldn’t 
even catch me. Bah! ye a woodsman? Why, 
ye tanned thief, ye couldn’t find Rangeley plan- 
tation ’less ye was led to it.” 

The men laughed at Abner’s ridicule, but the 
half-breed bit his lips till they bled. Then he 
smiled fiendishly and said, bring boys here. 
I make you say good things about Big Nick. I 
make you say anything I ask.” 

‘‘Say, if that ain’t the Injun of it,” admired 
Pete. “He’s going to torture the kids till the 
old feller prays to him.” 

“I won’t stand for that,” muttered Ben. 
“Nothing like that. We’re in bad enough with- 
out any extries. Fer my part I don’t care to 
have them younkers brought here. I left them 
alive and well, and well supplied with pro- 
visions. Guess we’ll call it quits as far as 
we’re concerned.” 

“Ye miserable hounds! ye’re going to send 
that black devil back there to murder ’em!” 


344 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISERS 


shrieked Abner as he caught the significance of 
Ben’s declaration. 

‘‘Easy, easy, Mister Man,” grinned Pete. 
“We ain’t hired to protect strangers in these 
woods. We left the young men in good condi- 
tion. We’re not to blame if a half-breed uses 
’em up.’^ 

“Ye’ll git a life sentence fer it, mark me that. 
And if the men at the mills git at ye first ye’ll 
swing, even if they don’t hang fer murder in 
Maine.” 

‘ ‘ Is that so ? ” laughed Joe. “ And who ’s go- 
ing to tell on us r ’ 

“I be,” roared Abner. 

‘ ‘ Tie his arms and drag him along, ’ ’ directed 
Pete. “We’ll camp over on the ridge. Joe, 
explain to Nick what he can and what he 
can’t do. No bringing the kids to us, ye 
know.” 

With head bowed Abner stumbled along with 
his captors. He had no doubt but what to save 
themselves from a state-prison term they would 
kill him. He would have been glad to promise 
to drop the whole matter if they would only re- 
lease the boys. He would have kept the 
promise, but he knew it was idle to make it, as 
they would never believe him. To them there 
was but one way out; the cruisers must never 


HOW ABNER FARED 345 

leave the woods, and what the outside world 
never knew, never happened. 

He sounded them, asking why they ‘‘tied up’’ 
with a half-breed when he could give them well 
paid employment with his company. 

“We’ve got a good boss,” grinned Joe. 

“Shut up on that. We have no boss,” 
warned Ben. 

“Ye needn’t try to cover up. Jim Nace is 
yer boss, but even he, as bad as he is, never 
meant ye should do murder,” cried Abner. 

“Will ye keep yer mouth shet, or shall we do 
fer ye right here?” hissed Ben. 

“And to think ye are fools enough to trust 
the half-breed, while he’ll throw ye over in a 
second,” sneered Abner. 

‘ ‘ He might if he got mad with us and had a 
chance to blab,” agreed Pete. 

“Meaning ye’ll put him out of the way if 
necessary?” queried Abner. 

“I don’t think he’d be missed very much,” 
laughed Joe. 

Abner said no more. The men talked openly 
before him, as if realizing what they said would 
never be carried further. After camp was 
pitched the veteran fell into a doze and did not 
wake till late in the afternoon. In the mean- 
while one of the men had repaired to the camp 


346 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


on the river and had brought back some sup- 
plies. None had suggested going to the boys’ 
camp, nor did any of them appear willing to 
discuss the youths. Food was offered to Abner 
but he paid no heed. If his companions had 
been done away with he had no desire to live. 
An.d his head fell on his breast and his eyes re- 
mained half closed. 

In the middle of the afternoon he heard a 
shout and looked up and beheld Big Nick. His 
hair bristled as he believed he was gazing on a 
double murderer. And he scarcely could be- 
lieve his ears when Nick hissed, ‘‘Boys git 
away. No catch um.” 

“What!” screamed Abner staggering to his 
feet, for only his arms were tied. “What! 
the younkers escape? Hooray! Glory! Kill 
me, do anything to me, ye pack of thieves and 
murderers — but my boys has escaped ! 
Whoop!” 

“Silence!” growled Pete, advancing on him 
with a knife, while Ben asked : 

“And ye mean ye couldn’t run them down?” 

“No catch um, ’ ’ muttered Big Nick. ‘ ‘ Little 
weasel sly like old fox here.” And he glared 
at Abner. 

The three men eyed each other in consterna- 
tion. If the boys remained at liberty it would 


HOW ABNER FARED 


347 


be unsafe to deal harshly with Abner. If even 
one escaped the bloodshed would have been in 
vain. 

^‘Wonder if that Injun is trying to throw 
us?’’ whispered Joe. 

“How fer did ye chase them, Nick?” in- 
quired Pete. 

“All over. All day. No find. Come here 
to git help. Catch um easy when all help.” 

“Did they come this way?” eagerly inquired 
Ben. 

Nick nodded. “Come this way. Hide over 
there,” and he pointed to the east. “Need men 
beat up woods and scare um out. I watch on 
edge and catch um.” 

Abner’s heart trembled within him. If the 
boys blundered on to the camp all was lost. If 
he could but warn them he was a captive he be- 
lieved Bub would go down stream and meet 
Noisy Charlie. And his eyes roved desper- 
ately about the camp. 

Regardless of betraying their presence Ben 
had heaped on some pine which was now send- 
ing up a tall column of yellowish smoke. 
Abner’s eyes brightened. If Bub only remem- 
bered to climb trees he would see the smoke and 
should know it was made by the enemy. 

“But if there was two smokes he’d know I 


348 THE YOUNG TIMBEK-CEUISEES 


was a prisoner; fer he’d have brains enough to 
know I never git lost and that it must mean 
trouble. And he’d also figger out that I’d 
never call on him fer help, and consequently he 
must argify that I want him and Eeddy to steer 
clear of this neighborhood. Now lem’me figger 
a bit.” 

His idea of figuring was to carelessly brush 
some pine kindlings and bits of green boughs 
into a heap with one foot while the men were 
earnestly laying their plans for re-capturing 
the two youths. After he had accumulated 
what he believed to be a sufficient pile he drew 
near the fire and idly rearranged the brands 
with a foot. Then in turning away he kicked a 
burning brand smartly towards his individual 
pile. None of the four noticed him, and with 
no show of haste he carefully forced the brand 
beneath the mass and rejoiced to see how it 
caught hold. 

But his task was not yet finished. The fire 
must be allowed to burn awhile. Quickly skirt- 
ing the group he forced his way between Ben 
and Joe and gesticulating with his head so as to 
hold the attention of all he commenced a violent 
harangue, taking care to use no abuse that 
would incite them to stop him. 

Wildly and vaguely he talked on. Big Nick as 


HOW ABNER FARED 


349 


well as the others staring at him in open- 
monthed amazement. ‘‘And I tell ye, and I be- 
lieve it, that there are diamonds there. Now 
listen,” and he leaned forward to invite secrecy 
and mechanically the fonr gathered close, for 
his mention of precions stones held their atten- 
tion. “I know there is gold there. IVe seen 
it. Great big flakes and nuggets.” His voice 
now sank to a whisper, but as he caught the in- 
creased crackle of his signal pile he elevated his 
tones again, loudly crying, “And that gold is 
enough to make ye all rich.” 

‘ ‘ What ’s the matter with him ! Is he crazy ? ’ ’ 
gasped Pete. 

“No I’m not crazy. I’m talking of gold, car- 
loads of it. And hatfuls of diamonds,” 
shrieked Abner, seeking to destroy the warning 
noise of the second fire. 

“Out up here,” gravely announced Nick, 
tapping his forehead. 

“I’m not out up there,” denied Abner in a 
passionate voice. “I tell ye I know where Jim 
Nace makes counterfeit dollars. I know where 
he has a place not more’n ten miles from here 
where he keeps his silver and gold hid. And 
with it he makes his money. There! that’s 
news fer ye, ehf ” 

He was compelled to pause for want of breath. 


350 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISERS 

and Nick’s quick ear caught the sound of an un- 
usual crackling. He turned and beheld the fire 
and with a growl sprang to it and kicked it to 
pieces. 

^‘The old hound did it to signal the kids!” 
howled Pete, striking Abner to the ground with 
one blow of his brawny fist. 

It was at this moment that Stanley saw the 
second smoke fade away from his perch in the 
tree top. 


CHAPTER TWENTY 

THE END OF THE CHASE 

The SDn was about an hour high when the two 
youths halted within a few hundred feet of the 
enemies’ camp. Great caution was now neces- 
sary and Bub dropped on his hands and knees 
and motioned for Stanley to follow his example. 
Owing to the intervening blackgrowth the con- 
versation of the four men was audible several 
minutes before they were seen. 

Abner had crawled to his feet, and as his 
young friends silently wriggled their way 
through the last barrier and were afforded a 
view of the scene his captors were busily tying 
him to a tree and showering him with curses. 

But Abner ’s spirit was indomitable, and as if 
to give the boys warning, should they be within 
the reach of his voice, he loudly called, ‘‘Ye 
won’t git them younkers. They’ve seen my 
smoke and will know enough to keep away. 
Put that in yer pipe and smoke it. ’ ’ 

“Ye will have it now, will ye?” raged Pete, 
raising a hatchet. 

“Take it easy,” restrained Ben, catching the 

351 


352 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 


uplifted arm. can wait till weVe undone 

Ms miscMef. He’s safe ; let’s strike out fer the 
brats.” 

^‘Good,” endorsed Nick. Leave old man 
here. Git boys. I catch um. One help me. ’ ’ 

‘‘Guess ye’d better go with him, Pete,” ad- 
vised Joe. “Ye seem to need coolin’ off a bit. 
Ben and me will stay here and watch this 
feller.” 

Pete grumbled and hesitated, evidently in- 
clined to remain in camp, but as the half-breed 
became impatient he picked up a rifle and fell in 
behind him, saying, “We’d better separate and 
beat the woods in a straight line east. They 
won’t go up stream, and they won’t come here if 
they’ve got brains enough to read that old 
hound’s signal. If they do come here Ben and 
Joe ’ll git ’em.” 

Nick grunted an approval, and deploying 
entered the woods a rod or two beyond the two 
young spies. Pete passed within a few feet of 
him and both the youths were grateful that he 
and not his companion had taken this line. 

Bub nudged Stanley exultingly. “That 
leaves only two, ’ ’ he ventured to whisper. “I’d 
rather all three were left than to try to outwit 
Nick alone.” 


THE END OF THE CHASE 353 

“How far will they goT’ nervously asked 
Stanley. 

Bub’s face fell. “That’s so. Night is com- 
ing on and Pete won’t wander around in the 
dark. He’s no woodsman; that is, nothing like 
Abner. ’ ’ 

“I was thinking they might find some trace of 
us and suspect we were near the camp,” ex- 
plained Stanley. 

“That’s possible — almost probable,” groaned 
Bub. “Well, my son, it means that if we’re 
going to do anything for the Whitten family 
we’ve got to do it pretty quick.” 

But think as they could they could decide 
upon no plan that would warrant success. 
They were two boys against two men. They 
were unarmed, except as they had clubs. Each 
of the men was caressing a rifle and listening 
intently for some note of victory from the heart 
of the woods. 

“If they were near cover we’d creep around 
and crawl up behind them and risk taking them 
by surprise with the clubs,” muttered Bub, his 
face white and desperate. 

This move could hardly be considered, how- 
ever, as Ben and Joe were some distance from 
the tangled growth and on their guard. 


354 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


Abner, lashed to a small maple, rested bis cbin 
on bis breast, apparently overcome. 

‘‘Wonder if tbeyT catch ’em,’’ growled Ben, 
shifting bis rifle. 

“Guess so,” returned Joe, shortly, evidently 
not in the mood for conversation. Then be 
added after a brief silence, “I never fancied 
this job.” 

“Chicken-hearted, eh?” grinned Ben. 

“No, I ain’t chicken-hearted,” retorted Joe 
angrily. “But when I work fer a man I like to 
feel he’ll back me up in anything I do. We 
both know that the boss would turn us down in 
a second if it suited his plans. ’ ’ 

“He pays well,” reminded Ben calmly. 

“I don’t know about that,” demurred Joe. 
“If it means state-prison if we’re caught I 
don’t call any amount of money good pay.” 

“But we ain’t caught yet.” 

“That’s just it,” exploded Joe. “We take 
all the chances and if we win out we’re paid, 
the boss asking no questions. But if we’re 
caught he’d go back on us in a minute and 
swear he knew nothing about us. That’s what 
sores me. Besides, the Great Northern ain’t 
the kind of a machine I like to fool with. Take 
a small operator, like Blusby, when we got 
his — ” 


THE END OF THE CHASE 355 


‘‘Shut up!” hissed Ben. “Want to tell 
everything ye know?” 

“But who’s to give it away if ye’re so sure 
we won’t be caught?” cunningly countered Joe. 

“That ain’t the idee. Once a thing is done, 
let it remain buried. I never rake old coals 
onto the fire,” replied Ben. 

“Say, ye two varmints. Going to kill me on 
a empty stomach?” cried Abner, raising his 
head. “Don’t ye realize I ain’t had anything 
to eat fer several weeks? If ye keep on this 
way I shall die nat’ral-like and ye’ll miss all 
yer fun.” 

“Ye’ll live long enough to suit us,” grimly 
assured Joe, scowling maliciously at the 
veteran. 

“Ye might bribe us with some of them pearls 
and gold ye was telling us about,” taunted Ben. 

“Both on ye will look mighty smart in 
stripes,” mused Abner. 

Before either could answer this with blow or 
curse a rifle echoed far off in the woods, and 
even as the men straightened and stared in the 
direction of the sinister sound there came an- 
other report. 

“That settles ’em,” muttered Ben, rising to 
his feet, his hands trembling as he toyed with 
the rifle. 


356 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


Joe’s face blanched as he believed the 
tragedy had been consummated, and his voice 
was unsteady as he added, ‘‘There’s no draw- 
ing back now. Anyway, we ain’t in that.” 

Abner’s eyes were two glistening points as 
he hoarsely cried out, “Ye’ll answer fer it just 
as if ye fired the cursed bullet. ’ ’ Then bowing 
his head he sobbed convulsively. 

The two paid no heed to his words, for 
already an awful fear was stealing over them. 
Each wished he had never encountered the sit- 
uation and neither dared look at the other at 
first. Then the desire to escape returned and 
they gazed at Abner wolfishly. As Joe had 
said, there was no drawing back for them and 
their liberty depended upon no witnesses reach- 
ing the settlements. 

The youths stared at each other in wonder 
and amazement as their quick ears caught the 
two reports. 

“They must be shooting at shadows,” whis- 
pered Bub. 

“I don’t understand it,” puzzled Stanley. 
“But we must make some kind of a move.” 

Bub started convulsively. Then warned, 
“Don’t budge if a wasp gets at you. One just 
stung me on the hand. We must have picked a 
place right under their nest. ’ ’ 


THE END OF THE CHASE 357 


‘‘One stnng me,” gritted Stanley. “We 
can’t remain here and be stung to death without 
making a noise. Let’s crawl back.” 

“Wait,” murmured Bub. “I see the nest. 
Keep quiet and we won ’t be troubled. See that 
gray bunch in the tree about the size of a hat. 
That’s it.” 

He was pointing to the tree in the middle 
of the opening, under which Ben and Joe 
were standing. Even as he indicated the 
dark grey bunch the men sank to the ground 
again. 

Stanley thrilled in every nerve and his voice 
was hard to control as he suggested, “If only 
we could get those fellows after the scoundrels 
we might have a chance to slip in and free 
Abner.” 

“Great!” chattered Bub. “But how to do 

itr’ 

“Find a small rock and smash the nest,” 
hoarsely advised Stanley. 

Without a word Bub silently worked his way 
backwards and was gone nearly a minute be- 
fore he returned, holding several fragments of 
stone in his hands. “Ketreat a few feet,” he 
murmured, “and we’ll have a chance to stand 
up for the throw.” 

In a few seconds Stanley had rejoined him in 


358 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 

a little bower, opening on the camp at one side. 
The nest was plainly visible. 

‘Ht all depends on the one throw,” warned 
Stanley. ‘ ‘ If yon miss the men will be on their 
guard. The first shot must hit and bring out 
a swarm of wasps before the brutes know what 
is up. The second that happens one of us must 
be ready to dash forward and cut the ropes.” 

“I canT do it,” groaned Bub. “I’d miss. 
My hand is shaking so I can hardly hold the 
rock. ’ ’ 

“You must,” commanded Stanley. “Brace 
up. I’ll steal around and be ready to make the 
dash. Lucky I’ve my knife.” 

“No, Stan; it won’t do,” whispered Bub. 
“You must do the shooting and leave the rescue 
to me. I can do that better than you; but I 
can’t hit the nest. Take the stones.” 

“Very well,” quickly agreed Stanley. “I’ll 
play the nest is second base and I’m nailing a 
man trying to steal from first. How long will 
it take you to get around behind Abner ? ’ ’ 

“When you hear a squirrel chattering let her 
go,” warned Bub. And he vanished noise- 
lessly. 

It seemed an interminable time to Stanley 
waiting. Once left alone he found his hand 
following Bub ’s example and shaking violently. 


THE END OF THE CHASE 359 


‘‘It won’t do,” lie growled, clinching his fist. 
“Come, my hoy ; brace np. The man on first is 
about to steal. It’s the best game I ever 
caught. Leighton knows I’ll place the ball in 
his hands at second. The crowd is cheering. I 
can hear Dumpy Scott coaching the runner, but 
it won’t mix me up any. Now, we’re steady, 
now we’re — ” 

The scolding chatter of a squirrel reached his 
ear, and with a masterful effort at control he 
threw back his arm and threw the stone. 

The dull, crunching sound above their heads 
caused Ben and Joe to look up. Before they 
could appreciate their danger a swarm of in- 
furiated wasps was upon them, stinging them 
viciously in the face and on the hands. 

With a double scream of rage and pain the 
two clawed frantically at their heads and then 
holding their arms to protect the eyes dashed 
into the cover of the woods. By this time 
Abner, with eyes tightly closed was spluttering 
and crying aloud as some of the wasps shifted 
to him, and he did not notice the bowed figure at 
his side. 

Suddenly he felt his bonds relax and forget- 
ting his tormentors he stared dumbfounded at 
the wide-eyed Bub. 

“Come, Abner. Follow me,” urged the 


360 THE YOUNG TIMBEB-CRUISERS 


youth, taking the old man’s hand and dragging 
him towards Stanley’s position. 

^ ‘ Land of sin ! ” exclaimed Abner in a dreamy 
voice. ‘‘Not ghosts! Here, and alive! Is it 
real, or be I crazy?” 

“These wasps are very real,” panted Bub, 
forcing the old man to hasten his steps. 

“But — ^but,” spluttered Abner, not sens- 
ing the ruse. “I don’t understand. I heard 
guns. Ye’re here. Why, Reddy! Be ye 
real?” 

Stanley clapped his shoulder warmly. 
“Wake up,” he tersely commanded. “We 
have about a minute leeway. We’ve all 
escaped. It’s all real.” 

‘ ‘ Glory be ! ” sobbed Abner, throwing an arm 
over each of their necks. “My boys ! My boys ! 
To think the younkers didn’t fergit the old 
man! To think ye pulled it off! I could lar- 
rup ye fer coming when I made the signal that 
I was in trouble and meant fer ye to keep 
away.” 

“Compose yourself, Mr. Whitten,” begged 
Stanley. “We’re not free yet. They’ll be on 
our track very shortly. We are depending 
upon your skill to save us.” 

This aroused Abner with a jerk, although he 
mumbled, “I’m ’bout starved. I ain’t seen 


THE END OF THE CHASE 361 

food fer so long I don’t know how it looks. My 
strength is most gone.” 

‘‘We don’t need strength,” reminded Bub. 
“We need your knowledge of the woods. If 
they’d only dropped a gun when they ran away 
we’d stick right here.” 

“Wal, ye’ve saved old Abner,” sniveled the 
veteran, “and I guess it’s up to him to return 
the compliment. Lem ’me take the lead.” 

Although weak from exhaustion and his long 
fast Abner got his second wind and in a few 
moments was picking a course to the southeast 
with all the caution and skill he had command 
of. 

“Did you hear the ^ns?” whispered Bub, 
over Stanley’s shoulder. 

“I did,” replied Abner. “I don’t under- 
stand it. It mixes me up. If I knew what Nick 
and that other fiend was shooting at I’d be a 
great deal easier in my mind. But I can’t 
figger it out. They must have seen the wind 
moving a bush and let go at it. That is, Pete 
prob’ly did. Nick wouldn’t make that mis- 
take.” 

“Where to now?” inquired Stanley. 

“In a straight line till it’s safe to hit Briar 
stream. Then we follow that back to Carl- 
ton’s.” 


362 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEKS 


‘'And give np tlie Flat-Top search!’’ sighed 
Stanley. 

A suppressed chuckle behind him evidenced 
that Bub was keenly enjoying the approaching 
climax. 

“I wouldn’t go back there ag’in fer all the 
spruce in New England,” Abner shot back over 
his bowed shoulder. “Besides,” and his tone 
was even more gloomy now, “I’m through 
with the Great Northern. I’ll git a new job 
soon’s I can hitch on to the warden’s tele- 
phone.” 

“But I believe that we can prove the com- 
pany’s line,” persisted Stanley. 

“Eeddy, say anything ye want to; ye’ve 
saved me twice. But if that there Bub makes 
a crack like that I’ll larrup him the minute I 
come to a good oak limb. He’s saved me only 
once. I’ll take it from ye, Eeddy, but not from 
a distant relation. Now, let’s drop the sub- 
ject.” 

“But I enjoy talking about it,” remon- 
strated Stanley. “Think how proud we’d feel 
if we could go back successful.” 

“Keep it up,” groaned Abner. “The wasps 
was pleasant little fellers alongside of such 
talk; but go ahead. Have yer say out.” 

“Anyway, it’s worth something to say, ‘I’m 


THE END OF THE CHASE 363 


working for the Great Northern because I 
never failed V’ continued Stanley. 

“Say,’’ mumbled Abner, pausing, “if ye two 
keep on a bee-line I guess ye’ll fetch out all 
right. I’m going back to Ben and Joe. It’s 
not so unpleasant back there after all.” 

Kegardless of the danger Bub gave a shriek 
of laughter and leaned weakly against a tree. 

“Be ye mad?” cried Abner in a smothered 
voice. “What ye laffing at, ye young varmint? 
Want to git caught ag’in? Think I can spend 
all summer up here a gitting of ye loose ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, Abner! Abner,” exploded Bub. “Tell 
him, Stan. Tell him, before I drop.” 

“Mr. Whitten, I’ve found the ancient 
record,” quietly informed Stanley. 

“Found what?” asked Abner in a dazed 
voice. 

“The original record. It was on the big 
beech we passed so many times. The bark had 
grown over it so it would never be noticed. I 
found it by accident, of course. I was idly 
tapping the tree and noticed the wood sounded 
dull and dead in one spot. When I cut away 
the bark there was the record. The two circles 
linked, cut by an arrow, showing the course, 
and beneath were the initials of the original 


owner. 


364 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


For a count of ten Abner remained rigid, 
then he hoarsely begged, ‘‘Tell me ye ain’t fool- 
ing. Tell me it’s true; just as true as the 
wasps was. Ye ain’t playing it low down on 
the old man, be ye, Reddy?” 

“It’s gospel truth,” assured Stanley. 

“Lawd ! ain’t I thankful,” fervently cried the 
veteran, looking up at the dying sky, his eyes 
glowing with ecstasy. 

But this mood was quickly replaced by one of 
the keenest apprehension, and he lamented, “If 
I could only have been there ! Not to take the 
credit, but to advise ye what to do after ye’d 
made the bullseye. If only I could have stood 
at yer elbow and advised, ‘Place that there 
bark’ — ” 

“In a hollow log,” mischievously broke in 
Bub. 

“No!” rumbled Abner, tossing his arms 
about wildly. “But back on the tree, where no 
one would notice it.” 

“That’s what I did,” modestly informed 
Stanley, not wishing to tease the veteran 
longer. 

“Boy! Reddy!” muttered Abner, catching 
him by both shoulders and glaring into his 
eyes. “Did ye really have brains enough to 
do that?” 


THE END OF THE CHASE 365 


‘‘I don’t believe even yon wonld notice it in 
passing,” said Stanley, reddening violently un- 
der the compliment of the veteran’s clutch. 
^‘The trailer of lichen I passed across the trunk 
conceals my work entirely.” 

After this,” mumbled Abner in a low voice, 
'H’ll tell folks that Keddy — I mean Mister 
Stanley Malcolm — took me kindly in charge on 
my last cruise. If anyone asks if ye’re work- 
ing fer me I’ll say, ‘Hardly, my friend. I am 
lucky to have a chance to work fer him.’ ” 

“Nonsense, Mr. Whitten,” gladly laughed 
Stanley. “I am awfully pleased over it be- 
cause I knew it would please you. But all the 
credit is due to you. You allowed me to come, 
you have kindly allowed me to bother you. By 
a pure accident I find the record.” 

“But where are we going?” remonstrated 
Bub, as Abner abruptly resumed his course. 

“Going?” he sniffed. “Where d’ye s’pose 
we was going? We’re going after that there 
strip of bark.” 

“But the Nace outfit?” cried Bub. 

“Bah! I ain’t afraid of ’em now. We’ve 
won out and my fighting blood is up. We’re 
going back to Flat-Top. Then we’ll make the 
mills. After that I’ll take a little vacation with 
Noisy Charlie and polish them gentlemen off a 


S66 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


bit. But there ainT no need of being careless, 
just because we feel tickled. ’ ’ 

fear we have been too careless already,” 
warned Stanley. “I am sure I heard someone 
breaking through the growth behind us.” 

^HUs Ben and Joe,” angrily informed Abner. 
‘‘They move like cart horses. Easy enough to 
keep out of their reach, but a bullet travels 
dinged fast. Hump yerselves.” 

“He’s straight ahead!” called out a rough 
voice not far behind. 

“I’m closing in on him,” informed a second. 

“Be ye?” gritted Abner, increasing his gait. 
“By jing!” The last was exclaimed as he found 
himself on the edge of an opening. At either 
side the woods ended in a dead line. To advance 
would allow their pursuers an easy mark, un- 
less the clearing could be crossed before the 
enemy reached it. 

“Come on. Eun as ye never did,” whis- 
pered Abner, pulling his hat well forward and 
scuttling towards the line of growth in front. 
The youths could easily have outstripped him, 
but they purposely accommodated their pace to 
his. Just as they were within a few rods of the 
growth Ben broke through the cover behind and 
excitedly yelled, “Hi, Joe! This way. We’ve 
got them! Why! There are ^/iree/” 


THE END OF THE CHASE 367 

His amazement at finding three instead of 
one victim, led him to hesitate a second before 
firing. In that brief interval Abner sharply 
warned, ^‘Drop!’’ 

The trio went down as one and Ben’s bullet 
whistled over Bub’s prostrate body. The 
second villain by this time gained his comrade’s 
side and took in the situation at a glance. 

‘^Take yer time,” he advised, cocking his 
rifle. ‘‘They can’t make the woods. But I 
don’t understand about them younkers. Now, 
ready!” 

But the report that followed his words 
spouted from the forest ahead of the cruisers 
and was quickly followed by another. As 
Abner looked back he could not see either of 
his pursuers, although groans and the sound of 
heavy bodies threshing about on the ground 
were audible. 

Then a tall figure stalked out from cover and 
advanced towards them. 

“Noisy Charlie!” fairly screamed Stanley 
and Bub in unison. 

“Howdy,” saluted the Indian. With this 
greeting he continued on to the other side of the 
opening, where Ben and Joe were prostrate. 

Abner and the youths followed him. The 
two villains were groaning fearfully, Ben with 


368 THE YOUNG TIMBEB-CRUISEES 


a hole through his right lung and Joe shot 
through the hip. 

‘‘Are they dying?’’ whispered Stanley in an 
awed voice. 

“No die,” grunted the Indian, beginning to 
bind up the wounds and checking the flow of 
blood. Then he apologized, “Poor light. Bush 
in way. Fired quick; no good aim.” 

“What’ll we do with them?” blankly inquired 
Abner, his mind centered on the Flat-Top ridge 
expedition. 

“Lumber men near. I bring um,” replied 
Charlie. “They take men back to mills. Git 
white medicine. Then go to jail. Leave um 
here and I send men. ’ ’ 

“I told him to fetch up some of the French- 
men to the old burn, where someone, prob’ly 
Nace, cut over the public lot. I thought mebbe 
some of our Frenchmen worked for Nace up 
there and could be used as witnesses against 
him,” explained Abner, as he and the boys 
limped on after the Indian. 

“Here! See something,” suddenly said 
Charlie, turning to the right. Two rigid forms 
were stretched out on the ground, a blanket 
thrown over each. 

“Big Nick. White man Pete,” informed 
Charlie. 


THE END OF THE CHASE 369 


‘‘Did you kill themr’ gasped Bub, beginning 
to feel a trifle faint. 

“No luck,’’ grumbled Charlie. “Kill each 
other. They hunt for someone; you, mebbe. 
They separate. White man see me, but I hide 
before he fire. Then Nick come through and 
white man think Nick me and fire. Nick dying 
git mad and fire back. Both dead. Good 
shooting. ’ ’ 

“Charlie, I want to shake hands,” humbly 
announced Stanley as they pursued their way 
to a point where strains of a logging song were 
emanating. 

“Good boy,” said Charlie, clasping his hand 
quickly. “No ’fraid of fox, eh?” And his 
eyes shone with merriment for a moment. 

Then he turned to Bub and slapped his shoul- 
der. “This young fox. Grow to old fox. 
Smart boy.” The three understood by this 
that Charlie was paying Bub an elaborate com- 
pliment; he meant he would some time be as. 
good a woodsman as Abner. The veteran, too, 
felt not a little pleased to be pointed out as an 
example. 

Just as the sun sank and left the woods in 
darkness several campfires twinkled invitingly 
ahead, and with a loud growling noise Abner 
broke from the others and dashed into the 


370 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CKUISEES 


singing circle and quickly appropriated various 
bits of food from each surprised logger. 

‘‘Gim’me that coffee/’ he snapped, sweeping 
French Louey’s tin dipper from his hand. 
‘‘And that doughnut,” he added, relieving an- 
other. And so on he levied tribute, until he had 
accumulated a large pile of edibles. 

When the others came up French Louey 
made believe he was afraid of Stanley, whereat 
the latter laughed joyously and fairly hugged 
the rough fellow. 

“No word for me, eh?” drawled a man on 
the edge of the circle. 

“Why, Mr. White!” cried Stanley, grasping 
both of the calloused hands. “I’m awfully 
glad to see you. ’ ’ 

After the greetings were over and the fam- 
ished youths had eaten their fill. White in- 
formed Abner: “It’s all clinched. Louey and 
three other of our men worked for Nace on 
the school lot. We’ve got him on the hip. 
He’ll have to pay the stumpage back to the 
town.” 

“Good,” cried Abner, his eyes twinkling. 
“I can’t report to any one but Hatton, but I’ll 
say this, fellers ; Mister Nace is up against a lot 
of trouble.” 

“That’s always good news,” declared White. 


THE END OF THE CHASE 371 


“Now let’s have that song about, ‘He was 
drowndecZ on the Allagash.’ ” 

The wearied youths crawled thankfully under 
warm blankets, and lulled to sleep by the 
swinging chorus, began to recuperate from 
their strenuous exertions. 


CHAPTEE TWENTY-ONE 


PEESIDENT THAXTER AREIVES 

Hatton sat at Ms desk, cold of eye and calm 
in bearing. Opposite Mm sat Nace, a man with 
small, dull eyes and heavy jowls. Each was 
waiting for the other to continue the conversa- 
tion. Finally Hatton pushed hack Ms chair 
and observed: 

‘‘lam sorry you cannot wait till Mr. Thaxter 
arrives. I have no powers to complete the 
transaction without his consent.’’ 

“That’s the trouble with working for a man 
who’s president of a dozen different concerns,” 
smiled Nace. “I’ve always worked for Num- 
ber One.” 

“I can easily believe you have been very suc- 
cessful in looking out for Number One,” 
sneered Hatton. 

“What of it?” asked Nace sharply, his eyes 
glinting. “The Great Northern never got 
ahead of me much, eh?” 

Hatton yawned carelessly, and replied, “Up 
to now there has never been any difference be- 
tween us, Mr. Nace.” 


372 


PRESIDENT THAXTER ARRIVES 373 


‘‘Don’t Mister me,” said Nace. “I’m plain 
Jim Nace. I’m one of the boys. I work bard 
and live bard and no man can put a finger on 
any act of mine and say it’s crooked.” 

“Nonsense,” smiled Hatton. “There is no 
need of this play-acting.” 

Nace did not seem to resent this bit of skep- 
ticism, but grinned broadly as much amused, 
and modified, “Well, no one can prove any act 
of mine is crooked.” 

Hatton tapped bis desk impressively. 
“Now, Nace, I know you are crooked. There 
isn’t a straight hair in your bead. But let’s 
be frank with each other. President Tbaxter 
will be here this afternoon. I must have your 
ultimatum as to the Flat-Top holdings. We 
know your timber ends at the line we claim. I 
have men in the woods now to prove it.” 

“And they’ll prove nothing,” serenely as- 
sured Nace. 

“Perhaps,” agreed Hatton; “they may not. 
And if they do not I want to know bow the 
matter shall be compromised. How much will 
you take for that timber if we decide not to 
carry the matter into court?” 

Nace rose and shook bis fist angrily at the 
manager, and shouted, “You have got in the 
way of thinking I am crooked and that because 


374 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISEKS 


of that belief you can always make terms with 
me. Now, Mister Hatton, Vve got all the 
money I need, and that timber isn’t for 
sale.” 

Hatton clicked his teeth and gently asked, 
‘‘What do you intend to do then?” 

“I intend to make your company hack 
water. I propose to let every man in the state 
know that the Great Northern has met more 
than its match. You’ve got to go through with 
this thing now you’ve started it, and you’ll go 
into court and admit you’re mistaken and pay 
the costs. Then we’ll see what about my coun- 
ter claim for damages.” 

“Counter claim?” cried Hatton, shaken out 
of his habitual calm. 

“Yes, sirree! Counter claim,” triumphantly 
repeated Nace. “Think you can blacken my 
character and put me to a big expense to hold 
what’s mine and then end the matter by simply 
refusing to sue? Hardly. I’m going to have 
damages, and big damages. After that point 
has been settled we’ll see what about selling the 
land. It might be possible that I would set a 
price on it, providing you showed the proper 
spirit in doing what is just and fair.” 

“Just and fair,” murmured Hatton in deep 
disgust. “You mean you believe you have a 


PRESIDENT THAXTER ARRIVES 375 


gold mine in tHs affair and propose to make 
the company pay well. ’ ’ 

‘‘If you’d studied the situation a thousand 
years you couldn’t have put it more neatly,” 
cried Nace. “The Great Northern is going 
to pay well. More’n that; it’s going to pay 

“Then you have no word to send to our 
president?” 

Nace hesitated, his eyes shining with a cun- 
ning light as he greedily canvassed his pros- 
pects. “Why, of course, I’m hot under the 
collar,” he explained, rolling his eyes virtu- 
ously. “It’s natural I should get mighty mad 
over the way the Great Northern has abused 
me. Still, I hope I am not a hard man. I 
want to be fair, even when I’ve been treated 
unfairly. I should say that if the company 
paid me fifty thousand dollars, for the slanders 
and for my actual money damages I would then 
be willing to give it an option on the timber. 
Yes, I’d do that.” 

‘ ‘ How much would you want for the timber ? ’ ’ 
quietly asked Hatton. 

Nace pursed up his lips and frowned, as if 
meditating heavily. “Why, not to be too hard 
I should say about one hundred and fifty thou- 
sand dollars.” 


376 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


Hatton gasped, although expecting some- 
thing exorbitant. ‘‘Whew!’’ he whistled. “A 
fifth of a million, eh? Why, you know the land 
can’t be worth anywhere near that.” 

“ Remember that fifty thousand is for slan- 
der and the like,” grinned Nace. 

“And if we refuse you will sue and be beaten 
and will end with the timber on your hands,” 
reminded Hatton. 

“Guess I can find a purchaser all right,” 
grinned Nace, thoroughly enjoying the sit- 
uation. 

Hatton’s gaze hardened. “And where, 
pray?” 

“I have an idea the Consolidated Pulp com- 
pany wants to break into Maine. It’s got big 
holdings in New Hampshire.” 

The name of this company was a red flag to 
Hatton, as it was the only prospective rival the 
Great Northern had. But he showed no sign 
of his rage as he calmly remarked, “Well, 
there is no hurry. The suit can’t be called in 
court till the fall term. My cruisers will re- 
turn shortly and tell me what they find. We 
might not want the timber anyway. I don’t 
even know as we could get it out from the 
ridge, or how much it will cut. ’ ’ 

Nace laughed coarsely, and jeered, “I’ll bet 


PRESIDENT THAXTER ARRIVES 377 


you don’t know a thing about it. By the way, 
who did you send up there?” 

‘‘Abner Whitten,” promptly replied Hatton. 

“What! Abner still working for you? 
Why, one of my men met him up at Hood 
mountain and he said he was through and was 
going to get a job with the Feenys up on 
Chesuncook.” 

“I had not heard of his quitting us,” quietly 
returned Hatton, hut inwardly disturbed as he 
remembered his parting injunction to Abner, not 
to come back till he had succeeded. He had not 
meant that order, but he knew the veteran was 
so sensitive that he might be likely to seek em- 
ployment elsewhere. 

“Sorry I can’t wait for Thaxter,” said Nace, 
moving towards the door. “But as you say, 
there’s plenty of time.” 

“Hold on, Nace,” said Hatton brusquely. 
“Let’s quit beating around the bush. Thaxter 
will expect to see you. You are out after the 
money. All this slander suit talk is rot and 
you know it. You want money and nothing 
else. Thaxter is the man to treat with. He’ll 
do better by you than the Consolidated people 
will. If you’ve got us where the wool is short 
you’d better make the best of it and see the 
president.” 


378 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CRUISEES 


Nace was deeply impressed by this and 
showed it by the way bis heavy face length- 
ened out. Then he admitted, ‘‘Of course 
I^m after the money. So is the Great 
Northern. I insist I’ve been rather cut up by 
the way the company has knocked me, but as 
you say there’s no use in my cutting off my 
nose to spite my face. I’ll be here at eight 
o’clock sharp to-morrow morning to talk with 
Thaxter. Maybe, we can arrive at some agree- 
ment.” 

Left alone the manager’s facial expression 
changed. It was as if he had slipped aside a 
mask, revealing the true Hatton. Deep lines 
drew down his mouth and he bowed his head 
in his hands to think. 

As Abner had said it was he who had taken 
a hostile initiative against Nace and had placed 
the company on record as intending to sue the 
scheming operator. He could see now that he 
had moved too fast. The papers throughout 
New England had played up the proposed suit 
for columns. Nace had raged and was re- 
ported as laying large wagers that he would 
retain the land till he saw fit to sell it. Public 
opinion had been with the company. It seemed 
preposterous to believe that the all-powerful 


PKESIDENT THAXTEE AKRIVES 379 

Great Northern would take a stand without be- 
ing assured of success. 

Realizing all this Hatton dreaded the com- 
ing interview with Thaxter. As yet he had not 
revealed the true state of affairs to the presi- 
dent. Now it must be done and he feared for 
his superior’s wrath. It was not a question of 
money and timber lands alone, but prestige 
was at stake. 

No word had come from Abner since the 
Indian guide had returned to the Kennebago 
wangan and had sent word that all Frenchmen, 
who had ever worked for Nace, should be sent 
over to him for a trip in the woods. He did 
not even know for what purpose the men were 
wanted, but had hoped that the veteran had 
some shrewd scheme under way. He had 
talked with Carlton over the telephone and had 
learned of Abner’s departure for Flat-Top. 
The encounter with Big Nick had not impressed 
him as being of any moment, nor easily charged 
up against Nace. It was he, himself, who had 
first incurred the half-breed’s hatred. 

He still was confident that Nace had swin- 
dled them. But this conviction would in no 
way mollify the president’s displeasure, unless 
sustained by proofs. 


380 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 


Throughout the afternoon he remained at his 
desk, transacting the routine of the mills with 
the same calm demeanor that always character- 
ized his dealings with the foremen. But when 
alone his head would drop in his hands as he 
again tested every link in the chain that was 
holding him down. 

‘‘With never a failure against his record, to 
think Abner must fail now,” he muttered. 
Then in self-accusation, “But I was a fool, a 
fool. Why didn’t I move more cautiously? 
When Carlton could find nothing I should have 
known Whitten couldn’t, unless by some 
miracle. And he has failed.” 

A step at the door caused him to spring up 
and smooth out his features. The door opened 
and in walked Eoscoe W. Thaxter, multi- 
millionaire and president of the Great 
Northern. 

“Hello, Hatton, glad to see you,” cordially 
greeted Thaxter, helping himself to a chair. 
“We must get down to business, as I have an 
automobile outside to take me hack to my pri- 
vate car where I shall sleep to-night. What 
about this pipe line for pulp ? ’ ’ And the presi- 
dent pulled out a memorandum and studied it 
critically. 

“Mr. Thaxter, that was an idea given me by a 


PEESIDENT THAXTEE AEEIVES 381 


youth who is employed here. I shall always be 
sorry I never thought of it myself,” replied 
Hatton. 

see,” murmured the president. ‘‘It’s a 
good idea. A fine one. We must do some- 
thing for the youth. He may grow up into a 
manager some day, eh?” And the president 
smiled good naturedly. “Make mention of 
him in writing to the Boston office next time. 
Put the line through at once. It will be a 
great saving. Hm! Let me see. What else 
was there? The ore — No, that’s copper. Ah, 
here it is,” and producing his spectacles the 
president slowly read from his small hook, “In 
re Flat-Top ridge disputed line.” 

Hatton cleared his throat and said, “I fear 
that Nace has the under hold in that matter. 
He’s crooked, but I don’t see how we can prove 
it.’^ 

Pulling his spectacles to the tip of his nose 
the president stared at the cold-faced man in 
amazement for a moment, and then exploded, 
“What! What’s this? You mean to tell me 
the Great Northern can be done up by a 
swindler?” 

Hatton could have replied that swindlers are 
usually the persons who “do people up,” but 
he coughed gently and replied, “There seems to 


382 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEES 


be no way by which we can prove the swindle. ’ ’ 

‘‘But a swindle is a swindle. It’s a self- 
evident fact. If he’s swindling us why can’t 
we prove it ? ” 

“I’ve sent men up there repeatedly, the best 
men in the state. My best cruiser is out on 
that work now,” explained Hatton. “But 
while I may believe we are being swindled, if 
we can ’t prove it, what are we to do ? ” 

“I should say that the Great Northern 
needed a new president, and a new manager in 
this region,” sternly replied Thaxter. “Why, 
sir ! you calmly tell me we are being swindled. 
I look at my memorandum book, the figures 
supplied by you, and I find the timber is esti- 
mated at one hundred thousand dollars at 
least.” 

“I believe those figures are a bit below the 
mark,” said Hatton, who always sought to be 
scrupulously exact in conferring with his su- 
perior. 

“Huh!” ejaculated Thaxter. “And we lose 
that, eh I” 

“Mr. Thaxter, unless we come to terms with 
Nace I fear we shall,” earnestly assured Hat- 
ton. 

“What! treat with him? Never,” said the 
president firmly. 


PEESIDENT THAXTEE AEEIVES 383 


‘‘Then he ^11 treat with the Consolidated,^^ 
warned Hatton. 

“Hatton, yon have got ns into a pretty kettle 
of fish,” condemned Thaxter. “My secretary 
has preserved I don’t know how many newspa- 
per articles in which this matter has been widely 
exploited. Now, by yonr prematnre actions 
we will be made the langhing stock of the whole 
conntry. The company’s allied interests will 
sntfer. . It means we have lost onr prestige, 
sir.” 

Hatton bowed and qnietly regretted, “It has 
been a deep sonrce of pain to me, Mr. Thaxter, 
to have involved the company in an nnwhole- 
some sitnation. I have my resignation writ- 
ten ont to take effect immediately. I will now 
present it.” 

“What good will your resignation do me, or 
the company?” cried Thaxter. “You’ve been 
a valuable man for us, Hatton. We had high 
hopes of you. We had intended to advance 
you to higher affairs. Keep your resignation, 
but the advancement must wait until this 
muddle is satisfactorily cleared up.” 

“I thank you,” murmured Hatton. “But 
my loyalty to the company compels me to ad- 
vise that we compromise with Nace. He is a 
coarse, brutal, greedy man. His demands will 


384 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


be exorbitant, but if we can trim them down to 
decent proportions we will do well to busb the 
matter up. It will keep out tbe Consolidated 
and we will be able to save our face. Needless 
to say, never again will I be caught in such a 
trap. ’ ’ 

‘‘I should imagine once would do for a life- 
time,’’ sarcastically replied Thaxter. “Well, 
it’s like taking a nasty dose of medicine, but if 
we must go through with it, we must. If it 
wasn’t for the Consolidated people I’d never 
consent to any compromise. He might steal 
my timber, but he should never sell it to me. ’ ’ 

“Very well,” said Hatton, his heart beating 
high with elation as he believed the worst of 
the storm was past; “he’ll be here at eight 
o’clock in the morning to discuss the matter 
with you.” 

“What! he’ll make appointments, set the 
hour, and tell me when he’ll see me!” fumed 
Thaxter. “I’ll not see him.” 

“But, my dear sir; he undoubtedly realized 
you are a very busy man and must be seen at 
that hour, or not at all,” soothed Hatton. 

“I can’t see him after that hour, but — ^well, 
well, what’s the use. Send word to the scoun- 
drel that he may call on me here at the hour 


PEESIDENT THAXTEE AEEIVES 385 


you suggest. Now, I’ll return to my car and 
see if I can get a little peace and quiet.” 

As Hatton was politely opening the door for 
him Abner stepped across the threshold and 
dropped his knapsack into a chair. 

‘H’ll receive your report later, Abner,” in- 
formed Hatton. 

‘‘Abner? Abner who?” quickly asked the 
president, turning. “What do you do, 
Abner?” 

“Who might ye be?” asked Abner. 

“I might be a wise man and surrounded by 
intelligent foremen. But I’m simply the presi- 
dent of the company that runs these mills 
here.” 

“Wal, if it’s yer company what pays my 
wages I’ll say my name is Abner Whitten, tim- 
ber cruiser and walking-boss fer the Great 
Northern. I am now ready to report on the 
Flat-Top ridge matter.” 

“He’s the cruiser I was speaking of,” hastily 
explained Hatton, wishing to be rid of the 
veteran for fear the president would change 
his mind and become irascible again. 

“Huh!” exclaimed the president, moving 
back to his chair. “Well, go ahead. I’m the 
boss here now. What did you find?” 


386 THE YOUNG TIMBEE-CEUISEES 


was a hopeless quest from the start, 
began Hatton, when Thaxter broke in: 

‘‘Will you kindly consider yourself on a 
vacation, sir, for a few minutes? Now, my 
man, what did you find? Bring me what I call 
good news and I’ll give you five thousand dol- 
lars. ’ 

Abner’s hand, reaching for the knapsack was 
slowly withdrawn, and he asked, “But if I 
bring good news because I was helped by two 
younkers and a Injun will ye make it five 
thousand dollars apiece ? ” 

“Nonsense, Abner — ” warned Hatton. 

“Eemember that vacation, or you’ll take an 
indefinite one,” growled Thaxter. Then to 
Abner, “What are you trying to do? Play a 
Nace trick on me?” 

“I ain’t trying no tricks,” replied Abner in- 
dignantly. “As fer vacations ye have a timber 
cruiser what’ll take one fer good so fer as ye 
and yer old company is concerned if he hears 
any more words like them. What d’ye mean 
talking five thousand dollars to me ? I come in 
here ready to file my report. If ye want to 
make me a present of five thousand dollars and 
are willing to make the same to my three com- 
panions — always providing the news is worth 
it — why, say so. If ye don’t there’s no harm 


PRESIDENT THAXTER ARRIVES 387 


done. Ye’ll git yer report without a penny.” 

‘ ‘ Stop ! stop ! Will you stop ? Silence, sir, ’ ’ 
roared Thaxter. Then very mildly, ‘‘Abner, 
I’m beginning to like you. I’m not in the habit 
of making presents to men who simply do their 
duty. But I’m worked up over this Flat-Top 
ridge proposition. If you bring me news that 
will help me beat this man Nace I’ll give you 
the five thousand dollars and — ^how old are 
these other two 1 ’ ’ 

“Sixteen years apiece and growing like 
sin.” 

“Hm. I see. Well, say, fifteen hundred 
each and the same to the Indian. Yes, I’ll do 
that.” 

“Hooray!” shouted Abner. “We’ll pool 
the money and divide it even among Charlie, 
the two boys and me. Bub gits all I leave 
when I die, anyway. Here’s the report.” 

To the amazement of the president and man- 
ager he pulled a strip of bark from the knap- 
sack and laid it on the desk. 

“What tomfoolery is this?” demanded the 
president, moving to hurl the bark aside. 

“Hands off!” warned Abner, pouncing upon 
the precious exhibit. “Don’t ye know it’s 
a ’gin the law to destroy monuments like that? 
Want to be another Jim Nace? That’s the 


388 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEKS 


proof ye’re about to part with nine thousand 
five hundred dollars — plus our reg’lar wages, of 
course — to git. Here! look!” 

And removing the mirror from over the 
washstand he held the bark before it. ‘‘See 
them two circles, linked, with the arrer and 
the initials? This bark was cut off’n the 
ancient beech on yer genuine line by my com- 
panion, Reddy, also known as Rusty and Fire- 
Weed. We earned all ye’ll gin us a gitting it 
down here. ’ ’ 

“They’ve turned the trick!” cried Hatton. 
“You won’t have to see Nace.” 

“Do you mean this is one of the original 
boundary marks?” eagerly asked the presi- 
dent. 

“It are,” solemnly assured Abner. “The 
big beech is still standing with the record on 
its trunk. It has been examined by Noisy 
Charlie, the younkers and all of the French- 
men. If it’s cut down afore we git up there 
ag’in we have all the proof we want.” 

“Then I want to see Nace,” grimly decided 
the president. “Let no word of this get out. 
It will be a pleasure for me to see Mr. Nace, 
and at eight, sharp. What else. Friend 
Abner?” 

“Wal, not much of anything. 0 yes; Big 


PKESIDENT THAXTER AERIVES 389 


Nick and a feller named Pete, shot each other 
to death while trying to kill Bub and Reddy. 
Pete thought he was shooting Charlie and the 
half-breed killed him just to have company, I 
guess. Then there’s two scoundrels called Ben 
and Joe. We left ’em up Rangeley way. 
Both plugged rather seriously, but they’ll git 
well enough to go to prison.” 

^‘I’m glad I did not offer a thousand for 
each item,” smiled the president, now com- 
pletely restored to good nature. ‘^Anything 
else?” 

‘‘I vum! I plum f ergot,” cried Abner. 
‘‘We found where Nace cut over a public lot. 
The Frenchmen remembered working fer him 
on it. So we’ve got a clear case ag’in him. 
He’ll have to turn over some twelve thousand 
dollars to the town. And I guess that ’s all and 
I’ll be going.” 

“But I am interested in you. Wait a bit,” 
invited the president. 

“And I’m interested in Reddy out there and 
must hustle out — ” 

“Have him in here,” commanded the presi- 
dent. 

“It’s the youth who thought of the pulp pipe 
line,” reminded Hatton. Then from the door, 
“Here, Reddy. Come in here.” 


390 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


Perhaps Hatton and Abner were never 
more amazed in their lives when the youth 
halted on the threshold and in a dazed voice 
gasped, ‘ ‘ Uncle Ross ! ’ ^ 


CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 


CONCLUSION 

It would be impossible to state which of the 
quartette was the most astonished. As Stan- 
ley cried out President Thaxter sprang for- 
ward and clasped him in his arms. For once 
in his life Hatton lost his composure; the 
amazement on his usually cold face rivalling 
that depicted by Abner’s angular features. 

‘‘Mr. Thaxter! Is this your — ^your 
nephew?” finally cried Hatton, as he beheld the 
former kitchen boy in the magnate’s embrace. 

“Our Reddy his nevvy!” stuttered Abner, 
pressing both hands to his head. 

“Leave us for a while,” requested Thaxter 
in a low voice. 

Hatton and Abner stumbled out of the door 
and stared at each other dumbly. The arrival 
of Bub on the scene loosened their tongues and 
each sought to be the first to proclaim the 
astounding news. 

Bub’s eyes and mouth opened very wide as 
he gathered the truth from their disjointed ex- 
clamations. 


391 


392 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


‘Ht doesn’t seem real,” muttered Bnb. 

‘‘They’re both in there now, a-hugging each 
other,” excitedly assured Abner. 

“Stanley Malcolm is undoubtedly President 
Thaxter’s nephew,” declared Hatton, slowly 
returning to his normal cast of countenance. 

“And to think how ye refused him the chance 
to go with me to Flat-Top,” murmured Abner. 

Hatton winced. “Of course I’m not sup- 
posed to know who a strange boy is who gives 
no account of himself,” he defended. “Had I 
known he was related to President Thaxter I 
should have given him a reception worthy of 
his high connections — that is, insofar as my 
humble means would permit.” 

“Then I’m mighty glad ye didn’t know,” 
cried Abner. “Per then I’d never had a 
chance to get acquainted with one of the best 
younkers that ever made fool mistakes in the 
woods.” 

“And the Great Northern would not have 
won the fight against Jim Nace,” added Bub, 
dancing about for sheer joy. 

At this point Thaxter opened the office door 
and motioned the three to enter. Bub and 
Abner were diffidently hanging back when 
Stanley looked over his uncle’s shoulder and 
commanded, “Hi, you two. Come in here. 


CONCLUSION 393 

YouVe bullied me in the woods, but I’m boss 
now. Hustle along. ’ ’ 

didn’t know I was combing down the 
president’s nephew,” grinned Abner nerv- 
ously. 

‘‘You were just as good a fellow, Stan, when 
I first met you as you are now,” earnestly de- 
clared Bub. 

“My nephew is fortunate in falling in with 
you two,” warmly spoke up Thaxter, grasping 
the veteran and Bub by the hand. “It was the 
making of him. Naturally you are all curious 
to know several things. Shall I tell it, Stanley, 
or will you?” 

“You explain. Uncle,” replied Stanley. 

Thaxter rested a hand on Stanley’s shoulder 
and began: “This youth is the only child of 
my dear, dead sister. I have no kith or kin ex- 
cept him. He was never a boy who abused his 
position, but his natural disposition was er — 
er — ” 

“Overbearing and despicable,” supplied 
Stanley quickly. 

“No, not as bad as that,” fondly smiled 
Thaxter. “But we two sometimes failed to 
agree. Not that Stanley was guilty of any 
wrongdoing, but he was headstrong about 
school matters and I was firm in my ways. The 


394 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISEES 

result was that when he wished to change his 
school I refused to consent. I was not particu- 
larly pleased with his standing in school and 
scolded him a bit too severely, I fear. At last 
I was foolish enough to tell him he was de- 
pendent on me and could not earn his salt if 
cast upon the world. We were in New York at 
the time. He replied that he could, if allowed 
the opportunity like other boys. I laughed at 
him. 

^Hn the morning he was gone. I smiled, 
thinking he was sulking at the home of some 
friend. As several days went by I made in- 
quiries. Then I became alarmed. I hired de- 
tectives and quietly instituted a search of the 
whole country; only, I never dreamed of his 
being up in Maine. I knew he had talked of 
going to Mexico some time and feared that he 
was down there. The unsettled condition 
of the country added to my alarm, and it 
was in the Southwest that we* searched the 
closest. 

‘‘Now by accident I find him up here — ^manly 
and capable to earn his own way. My friends, 
you have no idea of my gratification in learning 
that he has fought his way without asking for 
help on the strength of his name. He knew 
that he could draw on me for any amount at 


CONCLUSION 


395 


any time. Yet my bankers tell me be has never 
asked for a penny. By and by I shall want 
Bub and Mr. Whitten to fill in the gaps he has 
left open.’’ 

‘^It is your nephew who suggested the pulp 
pipe line, ’ ’ broke in Hatton. 

‘^He has not told me that,” cried the de- 
lighted president. 

^‘We always called him Eeddy and Busty,” 
added Bub. 

‘‘Dear! dear!” murmured the president. 
“To think of a Malcolm, a nephew of a Thax- 
ter, being styled by such a common nickname.” 

“I liked it,” stoutly insisted Stanley. “It 
made me feel like other boys. I was heartily 
tired of being bowed to and waited upon. I 
think it was that that in part caused me to get 
sour and disagreeable. However, I want to 
say right here that a fellow never had a better 
friend and uncle than I have. All the fault has 
been mine, and as Abner has so often said I 
needed to be ‘larruped.’ ” 

“Hold on, Beddy — I mean Mister Malcolm,” 
protested Abner. “Them remarks was made 
to a younker that needed ’em. I might have 
spoke different, if I’d — no. I’ll tell the truth. 
I guess I’d said it anyway.” 

“That sounds better,” laughed Thaxter. 


396 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CKUISERS 


^‘What a joke if Mr. Whitten had birched yon, 
my boy.” 

‘‘I’d stood for it,” grinned Stanley. Then 
observing the gathering gloom on Bnb’s face 
he quickly asked, “But, Mr. Thomas, why this 
castdown look? Aren’t you glad to find I’m 
what I am?” 

“I don’t see why I should be,” slowly de- 
cided Bub. “I’m selfish, I guess. I found a 
friend, a rattling good fellow. Now I lose 
him. I guess I would have preferred to have 
you remain Reddy — and making mistakes.” 

“None of that,” fiercely warned Stanley, 
shaking Bub by the shoulders. “I’m just the 
same as I was up on Flat-Top. I shall always 
be Reddy to you. Discovering my uncle makes 
no difference in my feelings for you and 
Abner.” 

“Red — Stanley, do you mean that?” cried 
the delighted youth 

“I vum! I believe he does,” muttered 
Abner. 

“See here, you two,” angrily declared Stan- 
ley. “What do you think I am? Didn’t you 
two take me up and befriend me when I didn’t 
have as many friends or as much to eat as the 
cook’s dog? Are you mean enough to think 


CONCLUSION 397 

that any amount of money would change my 
feelings for you twoU’ 

<< Forgive me, Stan,’’ blurted Bub. ‘‘But it 
is all so strange that I can’t think straight.” 

“Mr. Malcolm will accompany you hack to 
town?” politely inquired Hatton. 

“No,” smiled Stanley. “Reddy Malcolm 
will put in the summer with Bub in prospecting 
for amethysts and tourmalines and fresh water 
pearls, and on the side look after things up 
north for the company. Abner Whitten will 
be assigned to look after us.” 

“As my successor to be,” gravely informed 
Thaxter, “my nephew’s orders will be accepted 
by you, Hatton, as if they came from me. You 
can rest assured that he will not overstep or 
interfere with your routine duties, or ever ask 
anything unreasonable. But if he asks for 
men, or any kind of help you will be pleased to 
accommodate him, I know.” 

“What Mr. Malcolm says will go with me,” 
suavely returned Hatton. 

“I knew it would,” said Thaxter, his lips 
curling in a slight smile. 

“How about Laura?” asked Bub. 

“We’ve talked of her and her father,” said 
Stanley. “My uncle will arrange for Profes- 


398 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISEES 


sor Carlton to enter upon his chosen work in 
Colorado this fall.” 

Guess ye thought of everything,” admired 
Abner. ‘‘Now as ye two want to be alone and 
chin I’ll go over and eat a snack.” 

“We have even thought of that,” smiled 
Thaxter. “You two will accompany Stanley 
and me hack to my private car, where we will 
see what Josef, my chef, has good for dinner.” 

“Supper,” mechanically corrected Abner, his 
eyes glistening. 

“We’ll make it a combination of both,” 
laughed Stanley. 

“See here, my son,” whispered Bub aside, 
“I don’t want to go down there. I’m not use 
to that sort of thing. I’d feel ashamed.” 

“Quit that,” sternly ordered Stanley. “By 
the same line of argument I shouldn’t have 
gone north to feel ashamed of my greenness. 
To the car you go and Josef will give Abner a 
meal that he’ll remember ever after. I know 
Josef of old, and he’ll be that tickled to see 
me that he’ll throw on all the style at his com- 
mand.” 

“I ain’t just dressed fer polite company,” 
Abner was beginning to remonstrate, but Thax- 
ter caught his arm and led him to the door, 
saying: 


CONCLUSION 


399 


‘‘It is I who am in the best of company. The 
man who saved my boy’s life is the best com- 
pany I shall ever enjoy. Say no more. I am 
only sorry that that splendid Indian fellow is 
not here to go with ns.” 

“I do not believe Noisy Charlie would care 
to go with us,” said Stanley. “We must do 
something handsome for him, if we can only 
find the right way. Maybe, Abner can help us 
out on that.” 

“I’ll do anything fer Charlie,” said Abner 
earnestly. “It was really the Injun that 
pulled us all through.” 

“No one shall be forgotten,” assured Thax- 
ter. “Stanley has made a memorandum of all 
of his friends. There is a White and a 
McPherson and a French Louey — ” 

“Let’s not go into that,” blushed Stanley. 

“We’d better be hurrying,” worried Abner. 
“If I’m going to eat in a railroad car I don’t 
want the supper to git cold. S’pose that cookee 
of yer’n will have some hot tea? Don’t want 
him to bother to make it, but if he’s got any 
on the back of the stove I’d like a cup, I guess. 
All these happenings sort of make me nerv- 
ous.” 

“You shall have all the tea you can drink, 
promised Stanley. “And strawberries and — 


400 THE YOUNG TIMBEK-CRUISEES 


“Hold on,’’ warned Abner. “Don’t show 
yer ignorance before yer Uncle, Reddy. 
Strawberries don’t grow at this time of year. 
Kind of slipped, eh?” 

“Wait and see,” smiled Stanley, winking at 
Bub. 

After Abner had been pushed into the back 
seat of the machine with Stanley and Bub on 
either side of him, Hatton humbly reminded, 
“Does that interview with Nace stand?” 

“Certainly. I’ll be here on the hour. Mr. 
Whitten and the boys will stop with me to- 
night. We’ll all be here. Only you need not 
say anything to Nace about my nephew, or 
their discovery on Flat-Top.” 

“Most assuredly not,” said Hatton, bowing 
his way back to the office. 

That night Abner was in wonderland. With 
no conception of a private car he had imagined 
he was to be taken to the usual rough and ready 
coach used on roads penetrating the lumber 
district and be entertained with a nondescript 
lunch. 

Josef, overcome to behold his favorite, no 
sooner learned Stanley’s wishes than he be- 
stirred himself to an unusual degree. Thax- 
ter, a man of quiet habits and plain tastes, was 
almost surprised into betraying his amuse- 


CONCLUSION 


401 


ment when the four sat down to the table and 
Abner was besieged with the various dishes, 
including strawberries. At the end of the 
meal, when the veteran could eat no more, he 
anxiously asked: 

‘‘Is this same feller to cook breakfast?’’ 

“Josef cooks all my meals when I am at home 
or in my car,” informed Thaxter. 

“All right,” sighed Abner. “I’m glad I’m 
going to bunk here to-night. Hope he’ll have 
some of that cold sweet stuff.” 

Stanley chuckled, but took an opportunity to 
order ice cream for breakfast. 

Promptly at eight o’clock next morning Nace 
entered the office, wearing his hat at an aggres- 
sive angle. He was confident that he had won 
his fight and was about to add nearly a quarter 
of a million to his already moderate fortune. 
His salutation to Hatton was curt and sharp. 
The manager, in turn, was meek and mild in 
bearing and rubbed his hands nervously. 

“Kind of upset at the thought of having the 
boss here this morning, eh?” grinned Nace. 

“He was much put out yesterday afternoon 
when I told him that we were helpless,” 
mumbled Hatton. “It even reached a point 
where I offered to resign.” 

“Ha! ha!” chuckled Nace. “Well, if you 


402 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISERS 


git fired maybe I can find something for you to 
do/^ 

‘‘Thank you,’’ murmured Hatton. “Here 
comes President Thaxter.” 

“Who’s that with him?” scowled Nace. 

“Only Abner Whitten and the two boys, 
known as Bub and Reddy,” quietly replied 
Hatton. 

“Whitten! Why, I thought he — ^that is, I 
did not expect him,” faltered Nace, his jaw 
dropping. 

“Yes, he got out alive; also brought the 
boys,” said Hatton simply. 

“I don’t know what you mean by such talk,” 
cried Nace, his mouth tightening. “Why are 
they coming here? I was to meet old Thaxter 
alone.” 

“That will do,” growled Hatton, knocking 
Nace’s hat from his head. “You are about to 
meet President Thaxter. And remember your 
manners.” 

Nace started as if about to reach for a 
weapon, but Hatton’s hand resting in a drawer 
of the desk caused him to change his mind. 

“President Thaxter, this is Jim Nace,” 
briefly announced Hatton, never removing his 
eyes from the operator. 

“I have but a moment,” informed Thaxter. 


CONCLUSION 


403 


‘‘And I object to having this crowd here,” 
hotly cried Nace, half rising from his chair. 

“This crowd is composed of my nephew, 
Stanley Malcolm, and his two good friends, Mr. 
Whitten and Mr. Thomas,” quietly resumed 
Thaxter. “Now for business. How much are 
you worth?” 

“None of your business!” cried Nace, his 
heavy face revealing his bewilderment. 

“On the contrary it is my business,” 
smoothly assured Thaxter. “I have an impor- 
tant proposition to make.” 

Instantly Nace saw himself investing in the 
Great Northern and becoming one of its 
heads. “Why, I guess I could scare up a hun- 
dred thousand pretty quick,” he lazily re- 
plied. 

“I see,” mused Thaxter. “Very well; we’ll 
have to proceed on that theory. You will give 
Noisy Charlie, the Indian guide, the sum of ten 
thousand dollars. You will give a like amount 
to Abner Whitten. You will divide a third ten 
thousand between my nephew and Mr. 
Thomas.” 

“Give thirty thousand dollars!” gasped 
Nace in a dazed voice. 

“Yes; no man can say I ever bore down too 
severely,” returned Thaxter. 


404 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CEUISEKS 


‘‘But why — ^what do I get in return?” 
puzzled Nace, beads of sweat now dotting his 
red forehead. 

“You will be allowed to remain outside of 
state-prison until some new piece of crooked- 
ness lands you there,” calmly answered Thax- 
ter. 

“What d^ye mean I How dare you talk to 
me in such a slanderous way?” bellowed Nace. 
“I’ll have the law on you. These men are wit- 
nesses that — ” 

“Sit down,” coldly warned Hatton, tapping 
something hard in the drawer. 

“This is a hold-up,” choked Nace, his eyes 
now roving about the room as if seeking a place 
to escape. 

“Besides doing what I have directed you will 
turn over to the town owning the public lot, 
which you cut and then burned over, the sum of 
twelve thousand dollars, which Mr. Whitten 
says will cover the stolen stumpage. Of course 
the town will put in its surveyors to verify Mr. 
Whitten’s estimate.” 

“Is that all?” huskily asked Nace. 

“Not quite. You will cause to be printed 
within three days an announcement that you 
have withdrawn from politics and will never 


CONCLUSION 405 

participate in them again. It will be printed 
over your signature.” 

‘‘Now, hear me!” roared Nace rising. “I 
don’t know what your game is, but your city 
bluff won’t go. I don’t know what you mean 
by my stealing school timber. It is just an- 
other cause for a slander suit — ” 

“Tut, tut, man. Cease being foolish,” im- 
patiently advised Thaxter. “We have the very 
workmen you employed when you cut over that 
lot.” 

Nace licked his dry lips in silence for a few 
moments, and then hoarsely announced, “If 
I’ve got over a line I’ll pay the shot. But you 
talk in riddles. I came here to discuss my Flat- 
Top ridge holdings.” 

“I don’t want to buy your holdings,” said 
Thaxter. “Your timber is sparse and too high 
up the ridge. We have all we care for on that 
watershed.” 

“But my eighty acres,” muttered Nace. 

“If you mean the timber you have claimed 
against us, the courts will settle that title if 
you do not relinquish your claim within a day 
or so.” 

“Never!” shouted Nace, now thoroughly en- 
raged and bewildered. “You talk like a crazy 


406 THE YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS 


man with your demands on my pocketbook. 
You can be — ” 

^‘Sbow Mm the bark/’ directed Tbaxter. 
‘‘He annoys me with bis coarse ways.’’ 

Abner stepped to tbe desk and brought out 
the beech panel and held it up before Nace’s 
dull eyes. “It was taken from the boundary 
tree, on our line,” grinned the cruiser. “The 
tree is there now.” 

Nace gave a bellow and was about to clutch 
the precious bark, but Abner drew it from his 
reach, while something clicked in Hatton’s con- 
cealed hand. “Easy, Nace,” warned the man- 
ager. 

Then Tbaxter concisely outlined the case 
against the cornered operator, informing him 
of the death of two of his henchmen and the 
arrest of the other two. “I would prosecute 
you for their attempt at murder, but I might 
not be able to secure a conviction,” he con- 
cluded. “So I strike at your pocketbook and 
drive you from politics. Needless to say your 
life would not be worth much if ever you go 
into the woods again. When may I expect you 
to send out certified checks for the sums men- 
tioned?” 

“Within two days,” surrendered Nace, now 
utterly humbled. 


CONCLUSION 


407 


‘‘Then I think yon may go,’’ said Thaxter. 

After the operator had stumbled from the 
office Thaxter turned to the boys and said, 
“How about school?” 

“When I return Bub goes with me,” replied 
Stanley. “I only ask for this summer with the 
privilege of requesting a longer vacation this 
fall. I will not ask for the latter unless during 
the summer I make up my studies so that I will 
not fall behind should I stay out a year. Bub 
is ahead of me now and we can study to- 
gether; but I do want to see more of this 
life.” 

“See how he’s putting on flesh and muscle,” 
admired Abner. “When he come here he was 
thin as a herring. A season in the woods would 
be mighty good schooling fer him.” 

Thaxter pondered deeply. “I’ll see about 
it,” he finally announced. “You may have the 
summer and we’ll talk over the fall and winter 
plans later. Now make out a list of things you 
want me to send down and I’ll be going back. 
I must be in Boston to-night.” 

“For one thing, send all the books you can 
on geology and the minerals of Maine,” 
laughed Stanley, writing it down as he spoke. 
“Then the handsomest rifle you can find for 
Charlie.” 


408 THE YOUNG TIMBEK-CKUISERS 


^‘Better quit talking and do more writing,” 
advised Abner. 

^‘And we’ll give Mr. Thaxter the best stone 
we find this summer for a ring or scarf-pin,” 
cried Bub. 

have it!” cried Stanley. Among other 
things we’ll work Miss Laura’s amethyst 
pocket.” 

‘‘Guess I’ll go over and see what we’re go- 
ing to have fer dinner,” said Abner. 


RD - 43 1 

THE END 




















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